Love Lies Brooding
by TamaraAnn1978
Summary: Fenris/Hawke love story, with angst, major drama & Anders thrown in for fun. Major smut.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first fanfic attempt. The story has been sitting on my laptop for about 2 months now, while I worked up the courage to post it. Many thanks to Hatsepsut for giving me the virtual kick in the pants I needed. I do realize that my time lines don't match up to the ones in the game, but please forgive me for taking liberties. I hope you enjoy reading, as I've had a great time writing. This is also my very first attempt at writing smut, and this story will have a LOT of smut. Er, make that SMUT. **

**Disclaimer: Bioware owns it all. I'm just toying & playing. And having a great time doing so.**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Foolishness<strong>

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><p>Hawke:<p>

It has been nine months since that wonderful and awful, heartbreaking night with Fenris. Nine months since she had given herself fully to a man. A man she happens to still be devastatingly in love with. Whenever she thinks of that night, a blush darkens her pale skin. She still feels so ashamed and foolish as she thinks of the rejection she's suffered. And inevitably, her thoughts then turn to the things he had done to her and how he had made her feel. It was these thoughts that keep her company during her lonely nights. When she lies in her bed, alone, her body yearning for Fenris' touch, for his whispered words in the dark…these thoughts consume her. She prays to the Maker night after night, to just let him return to her. She hates herself for her weakness, but her heart had been lost long ago and she does not know how to get it back. She's not the type to just hop into bed with whomever struck her fancy. No, they had to win her heart, and Fenris has hers.

Changes have come to Kirkwall, and to Hawke. No longer was she living with her uncle in a hovel, but no longer did she have her lovely little sister to share her life with. Bethany had died in the Deep Roads when she'd foolishly taken her with her. She should have heeded her mother's warnings, and left her sweet sister at home. But Bethany had looked at her with those big eyes and pleaded to go. She never had been any good at saying "no". She'd thought one mage on the trip would have been enough, but she had been mistaken. And Bethany had paid for her foolish mistake. And then that fucking psychopath had stolen her mother from her. Why she kept losing the people she loved, she would have given her last breath to know.

It has been a particularly trying day, full of killing. Usually she enjoys cutting down slavers, blood mages, dragons, and the like. Today, however, she just feels off. Something in her gut is making her feel antsy and unsettled. She drags herself home, covered in sweat, blood and gore, only to be greeted with the cheerful faces of her three servants. She loves them, she really does, and they are part of her family now. But as she washes the grime of the day from her body, she sighs deeply. The reality of the situation is that she is alone. Her servants love her, she has no doubt, but it is inevitable that someday they will want to leave. Orana will no doubt find a man and want to start a family. Bodahn and Sandal won't want to serve her for the rest of their days. Maybe she really should consider settling down with someone. It might be nice to hear the pitter-patter of little feet running through these halls. Maybe it is time to try to move on and find someone else to love. Someone who can love her back. _"Anders has a crush on you. And he's very handsome. Perhaps…"_ Changing into loose fitting brown cotton breeches and a soft white tunic, she settles in for a quiet night at home. As she sits in her library, trying to read one of Varric's latest novels, she finds herself unable to concentrate. Her head is pounding from the stressful events of the day, and she can't stop thinking about the possibility of a family, and children. She desperately wants to be a mother someday. Maybe it's time to hang up her daggers. The bottle of wine she'd opened to have with her dinner sits on the table next to her, nearly drained of its sweet liquid. She stares at the wine, realizing that she is missing a certain lanky, green eyed elf to share the wine with.

"_Snap out of it! He doesn't want you, so just move on already!" _She's not sure how many times she's had this conversation with herself. Deciding she needs cheering up, and to be around people who love her, she drains the last of the wine and determines to make the rest of this night have a cheerful ending. She refuses to go to bed sad, yet again. And the upside is that Fenris will most likely not be at the Hanged Man. He's been brooding in his mansion for the last few days, probably drunk off his ass. She had tried dragging him out, but three days ago he told her to leave and she is still pissed at him for his dickish attitude. Stepping out into the cool night air, she pulls her woolen cloak tightly around her. She loves this time of year, when the days are losing their heat and the nights are crisp and cool. The leaves on the trees are changing from their various shades of green to bright oranges and deep reds. Her dagger is strapped to her upper thigh, easier access than the twin daggers she usually keeps strapped to her back. She desperately hopes that tonight she will be able to walk the darkened streets without incident, as she doesn't need yet another headache on top of the one she is already fighting. Apparently, the Maker is actually listening to her prayers for a peaceful walk to the tavern, as no one bothers her.

Before she knows it, she is in front of the tavern, the warm lights emanating from the windows beckoning passersby and the jovial voices from within promising a fun evening. Pushing the heavy wooden door open, she steps from the darkness into the blazing light of the main room. Her eyes squint a bit as they adjust to the light, and she hears Varric's familiar voice calling to her. She smiles instinctively but notices that Fenris is, indeed, present. "_Ah, shit. I am not in the mood to deal with his crap tonight. Oh stop it, you know you're thrilled to see him."_

Varric rubs Bianca lovingly with a cloth and some oil, while downing yet another tankard of his favorite ale. "Hawke! I was just working on a new story. It's about a handsome, brooding elf who drowns in a vat of wine. What do you think?" She looks at Fenris, who is scowling into his wine. He does not look good. His complexion is pale and sallow, and his eyes have dark circles under them. Her heart aches for him. Isabela saunters up to the table, her body on full display tonight. She is wearing a new dress, made of a sheer black material. It barely reaches her mid-thighs and dips low in the front. Her breasts are nearly falling out.

"Hello, Isa. You're looking even more whore-ish tonight, if that's possible."

"Ohhh, why THANK YOU, Hawke! I bought this dress yesterday. I'm so glad you like it!" She sets a fresh mug of ale in front of Varric, and sits next to Fenris. Hawke sits in the only free chair, directly across from Fenris. Hawke's keen eyes notice that Isabela's hand rests on Fenris' thigh underneath the table. "_What is this about? Are they together now? No…Isabela is my friend. She knows how I feel about him. Maybe he's moved on. But still, Isa wouldn't do that to me, would she? Well, she IS a whore, you idiot."_

In the time that it takes for her brain to have this conversation with itself, Isabela has run her hand up his leg, lightly stroking his crotch, trailing her fingertips across across his chest and back down again. Hawke notices the bulge in Fenris' pants beginning to harden. She does not WANT to look at his crotch, the lovely black leather-clad crotch of his. She can't help following Isabela's fingers with her eyes, though. It is like watching a horrible accident unfold before her eyes. She just cannot look away. "_Get a grip, idiot!"_ She chastises herself. Her eyes snap back up and meet Fenris's. His beautiful, mossy green eyes bore holes into hers as she narrows her gaze and bites her lip. "_This is no concern of yours. If he wants to screw that filth, let him. We all know Isabela is a whore. We all know she has a thing for Fenris. But doesn't he realize that once she's had him, she'll just toss him aside? Hmpf. Sound familiar?"_ The little voice inside her head smirks.

She flags down Nora and orders a bottle of whiskey. Varric raises an eyebrow in question, but does not speak. She never drinks anything stronger than wine, or the occasional mug of ale. Usually she sticks to honeyed herbal tea or water. Something must really be bothering her. He has a very strong feeling that it has to do with the fact that Broody hasn't pushed Isabela's hands off him yet. But Varric knows how drunk Fenris is. The elf has been drunk for the past three days. Probably doesn't even realize he's in the tavern. Varric himself was surprised when Fenris had stumbled into his suite earlier. He hadn't wanted to talk, just drink. Varric supposed he'd gotten tired of drinking by himself. Varric had given up trying to talk to him, so they'd just been drinking all afternoon. He was curious to see if Fenris would eventually pass out, but he seemed to be part camel. The drinks kept coming and the elf kept downing them. Varric sighs. He knows this is not going to end well. Can't fault a man for drunken missteps, but really, Isabela should know better.

She downs shot after shot, fuming silently. Her rage continues to grow. This is not the fun night she had envisioned. She feels eyes on her from time to time, but just glares at the table. If she looks up, she will see Fenris and Isabela and she doesn't want to see any more than she already has. She should go, but her ass seems glued to the chair.

Suddenly, a chair scrapes on the floor, and Fenris stands with Isabela. She giggles and leads them from the room, up the stairs. Hawke knows her mouth has dropped open, but she cannot help it as she watches them go. "_WHY would Isabella do this? While I am sitting RIGHT here? Flirting is one thing, but to take it to the next level? She KNOWS how I feel about him! Fucking whore."_ Hawke turns away from their retreating forms as she feels hot, angry tears welling in her eyes.

Varric finally clears his throat and mumbles into his ale. ""Well shit. I'll go after them."

"No." She says. "Don't bother. If that's what he wants, I hope he gets a disease that makes his balls fall off." She throws some coins on the table and leaves, tears streaking her face, making it that much harder to see as she flees into the Low Town night.

Fenris:

The Rivani whore has been making passes at him all night. He continues to drink and ignore her, hoping that at some point she will just give up and go find some other person to annoy. He has been drunk for three days now, and his head is pounding but he cannot seem to stop. The wine makes it easier to forget how much he loves Hawke. How much he yearns for her touch. He feels badly that he yelled at her when she came to him the other night, knows he should apologize, but what would he say? "Sorry Hawke. I'm a drunk and a coward, and there are just two more reasons why I don't deserve you."

He has been drinking with Varric most of the day and is halfway through another bottle of wine…was it nine bottles of the tavern wine he's now had? He lost count ages ago. He has been thinking of Hawke all day, and then he sees her enter the tavern. He has missed her smiles and her laughter, and is happy she has shown up. He feels Hawke's fingers on his legs and closes his eyes, relishing her touch. Her face swims before him, her voice whispers in his ear. Suddenly he is letting her pull him up and toward her room in the back. He stumbles after her, thrilled that finally, he gets to be with his heart's desire once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hopefully this will redeem Isabela a bit. But she's still a dirty ho.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Want<strong>

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><p>Isabela:<p>

Kissing Fenris is hotter than she has imagined it would be. The way he touches her sends sparks down to her core. His mouth is hot and searing as he nibbles a spot above her collarbone. She purrs, low in her throat, as she works the leather straps of his breeches loose. She hasn't had an elf since Zevran, and he had been unmatched in his love-making skills. She is eager to compare the two. "Now, can little Fenny come out and play?" She giggles as she slips her hand down and finds what she's looking for. "Mmmmm….my, my, little Fenny isn't so little, is he?" She is desperate to see where the lyrium ends, and hopes fervently that the markings go all the way to the tip of his shaft. She shudders, thinking of having him light his brands while he is inside of her.

"Mmmm, Hawke." The name is whispered against her ear, but it sounds as if he is shouting in the darkened room. Her hands still instantly inside his pants.

She pulls away from him, looking into his glazed eyes. "What did you just say?" She really hopes she hasn't just heard what she thinks she has.

"Hawke. I love you." His lips curl into a smile, searching for her lips in the dark.

"Well, FUCK." She curses herself for her stupidity. _"Of COURSE Fenris is in love with Hawke. Isn't everyone? Shit, even I'm half in love with her. Does Hawke feel the same way? She hadn't seemed to care when I was flirting with Fenris down below. Wouldn't she have said something? Pulled my hair, slapped me? Something? All she did was sit there and drink a bottle of whiskey_." Realization dawns on Isabela too late that she's never seen Hawke drink anything stronger than wine. "_Fuck, fuck, fuck_." She sighs and resigns herself to the fact that she will never know where exactly those markings end.

"Come on Fenny. Let's go." She takes his hand and pulls him up, fastening his breeches. Guiding him along the hallway, she leads him to Varric's suite.

"Rivani. What's going on?" Varric eyes Fenris, who is barely able to walk. He is swaying precariously close to Bianca, and Varric rushes to move her to her pillow. He places the crossbow on the pillow, a large square of deep purple satin, embroidered with flowers and a large "B" in gold thread.

Isabela quirks an eyebrow and tilted her head to the side. "Bianca has her own pillow?"

"What? She likes to be comfortable. I take care of my lady."

"Oh, Varric, you are killing me. Anyway, I've brought you a roommate for the evening. "

"What? Broody? What makes you think I want him?"

"Varric, look at him. He's too drunk to go home, and I need to find someone else to plunder my treasure chest."

"What happened Rivani? He not measure up to your standards?"

"No Varric. I didn't measure up to his."

She helps Varric ease Fenris onto the large couch in the corner of the room, as Varric is adamant that he is NOT sharing his bed with a brooding elf who might mistake him for Hawke.

"If he thought YOU were Hawke, he'd probably make it with a darkspawn."

She pauses in the doorway, turning to look at Varric. "I really stepped into a pile of nug shit this time, didn't I, Varric?"

"No Rivani. You rolled in it."


	3. Chapter 3

**For those of you wondering, no, my Hawke's first name is not pronounced like the Little Mermaid. And please don't hate me for this chapter.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: Mistakes<strong>

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><p>Hawke:<p>

_"Stupid, stupid, stupid! Should have stayed at home, left well enough alone." _As her inner voice beats her up for her stupidity, her body wanders Low Town. She doesn't have many coherent thoughts as she roams the streets, and she doesn't quite know how she ends up at his place. She storms into his clinic, close to midnight, anger & frustration etched onto her face, in every plane of her body.

"What's the matter, Hawke?" He is instantly concerned, searching for wounds with his eyes. "_Maybe under her clothes?_"

"He. Doesn't. Want. Me! I gave him everything! EVERYTHING! And he just keeps ignoring me, ignoring that night! He just wants that wh-whore!" She trails off as her breath hitches & she knows she is coming perilously close to tears. She tends to cry when frustrated & angry. The only thing he can think of is to envelope her in a tight hug, which is exactly what he does. He rubs her back soothingly, as tears fall down her cheeks. The tears come faster & harder as she melts into his chest. She looks at him, hazel eyes full of pain and sadness. Her sooty eyelashes are wet with tears of rejection.

She hears his soft whispers against her ear as he breathes deeply against her hair. "That fucking knife eared fool. You are more of a woman than that whore will ever be. You are smart, beautiful, sweet, brave. You are everything she will never be."

She smiles as her heart warms at his words. "You think I'm smart? And beautiful?" she hiccups against his chest.

He pulls away from her to look at her in astonishment. How this woman does not know how wonderful she is, he has no clue. His warm hands smooth her hair from her face, stroking the inky black tendrils that have stuck to her face with her tears. He stares into her eyes, desperately seeking the answers his heart yearns for. But he sees only the pain of rejection, the sadness of her broken heart. He is desperate to kiss her, craving the feel of her lips against his. But he can smell the whiskey on her breath, and he knows that taking advantage of her while she's drunk and heartbroken is absolutely the wrong thing to do. He silently curses alcohol, taverns, Fenris, and elves. Turning away before he can do something he knows she'll hate him for later, he determines to help her at least get a good night's sleep. Even if it's not in the way he would **_like_** to help her sleep.

Here, " he says, "I have something that might help you." He crosses the room to a table, where he removes a pouch from a jar. He sprinkles something from the pouch into an earthen mug and fills the mug with hot water from the kettle hanging over his fire. Stirring the contents, he hands the mug to her, smiling.

"What is it?" she asks, eyeing the steaming mug cautiously. She remembers his last batch of sleeping potions and shudders with disgust at the memory.

"Something to help you relax and, hopefully, sleep. It should help with the hang-over you'll definitely have in the morning, also. I can't guarantee it'll make it go away entirely, as you smell like you took a bath in whiskey. But it should lessen the intensity of the pain. Don't worry, it doesn't taste as bad as my last batch of sleeping draughts. By the way, Hawke, what DID you drink tonight?"

"Please, call me Arielle. I don't want to be Hawke tonight. Just plain old Ari."

"You couldn't be plain if you tried."

She smiles at his sweet words. "Thank you, Anders. That's sweet. And I may have had a bottle of whiskey at the Hanged Man. And a bottle of wine with dinner."

"Maker's breath, Arielle! He's not worth it!"

She shrugs and her eyes shift to the floor. In a sad voice, she whispers "I know. I just…I just wanted to forget." She misses the desperate look that flashes over his face.

Turning away from her, his shoulders slump and he simply says,"Well, drink your tea."

Taking a small sip, she grimaces and spits it back out. "Outh! Anderth! Ith boiwing an tathe like nug pith."

Biting his lip as he smiles at her swear borrowed from Varric, he takes the mug from her, turning to his honey pot and adding a generous dollop of the amber goo. He waves his hand over the mug, cooling it with his magic. "There, you big baby" he teases, handing the mug back to her.

She takes another tentative sip, smiling as she tastes the sweet honey, and the herbs instantly begin making her body warm and relaxed. They even soothe her burned tongue. She closes her eyes as the warmth courses through her body. Anders watches the physical response her body has to the tea with pleasure. She is so tense, he thinks. She really should relax more. She's all full of knots and pain. His fingers itch to massage the pain away. He smiles as he watches the tension melting away before his eyes."Mmmm, Anders. This feels amazing. How did you make this?"

"I didn't, and honestly, I'm not sure what's in it. The merchant who sold it to me said it's designed to help relax and soothe. I had meant to ask him the exact ingredients, but I saw a Templar approaching and just wanted to hurry back home. I haven't made it back out to ask him again. I only just bought it two nights ago. I haven't had anyone asking for relaxation potions yet. And your body was just screaming "TENSE!" at me, so I felt it only right as your healer, to help you."

"Well, thank you. It's definitely working. Do you mind if I sit?" she asks, motioning to his bed. His mouth goes dry at the thought of her in his bed, but he simply shakes his head. "Please, make yourself comfortable." His bed is pushed against one of the stone walls of the clinic, and she sits on the edge of the straw mattress, untying her boots and slipping them off. Her socks are next and Anders is fascinated to find that Hawke's toes are painted a deep red. It is a traditional Orlesian practice, and he is amused to find that she has done something so…girly. She scoots her bottom back until her back is resting against the wall, and she brings her knees to her chest, resting the steaming mug on top of one knee. Leaning her head back, she closes her eyes and smiles. He watches her getting comfortable, sipping her tea. "_She looks so **right** here_", he thinks.

"You really should have some of this Anders. With the honey, it's really yummy." He snorts as the word "yummy" passes her lips. She must really be drunk, he thinks.

Shrugging, he decides that he does deserve a night off, but pours himself a glass of whiskey instead. He sits on the bed next to her, sipping his whiskey slowly. They are close enough that their bodies are touching, and she rests her head on his shoulder. They sit in companionable silence for awhile, each lost in thought. She soon begins to nod off, comforted by the warmth spreading through her belly, her muscles relaxing more and more. The fire hypnotizes and all that is heard is the crackling of the wood.

"All right, drunky. Time for bed." He coaxes her to lie down, covering her with a warm blanket. She gives him a sleepy, drunken smile. He kisses her forehead, wishing she had come to him sober. He could never take advantage of her like this, much as his loins ache and burn with desire. Her eyelids drift closed and she snuggles deeper into his pillow as sleep takes her. He knows he won't be able to have a decent night's sleep for many, many nights with this image of the woman of his dreams in his bed, the scent he loves on his pillow.

He has been sitting at his worktable for Maker knows how long. The candle casts dark shadows across the room as he realizes he has been bent over for too long. Arching with one hand on the small of his back, he cracks his spine and decides it is time to sleep. There is only one bed in his small hovel, and a certain beguiling lady is occupying that. He casts a dubious glance at the hard wooden bench across the room. Sighing, he rises, and crosses to the fire. He has been standing in front of his fire, cursing his stupid luck to finally have her here, and she is too drunk for him to act on his feelings, and then he feels it. A hand upon his shoulder. He looks down and sees slender fingertips resting lightly upon his shoulder. His breath catches in his throat. "Arielle?" he asks tentatively. Turning, he sees the desire burning in her hazel eyes. His gaze lowers to her lips. Her full, moist lips…lips that he has fantasized about kissing every night for three agonizingly long years. At first it was just physical desire. But somewhere along the line, he had fallen heart and soul for his fearless leader. She rises on her tiptoes and brushes her lips against his softly. Her lips are every bit as soft as he has dreamt they would be. His amber eyes burn into hers with desire, want, and need. He closes his eyes, deepening the kiss and groans against her mouth as she fits her body tightly against him. Pressing into the warmth of his hard body, she runs her fingers through his soft hair. He feels her nimble fingers reach up, running through his hair. He threads his fingers through her dark hair, pushing it away from her face. He needs to see her face when he tells her.

"Arielle, I love you. I've always loved you." Her eyes light with joy and she smiles, capturing his lips in another kiss.

"Oh, my love. I have waited so long for this. For you…" he whispers against her ear. She runs her fingers over his tunic feeling his hard muscles beneath. His arms are large and muscular, but not overly so. Slipping her fingers under his shirt at his waist, she leans into him as she gently gathers the material and pulls it over his head. He is sure he will come undone as she leans forward, kissing his chest. Trailing her lips over his collarbone, letting her teeth lightly graze his neck. She flicks her tongue over his nipples, one at a time, making them hard.

_"Is she still drunk? This is not right if she is. But oh Maker, it feels SO right. Does this mean she no longer has feelings for the grubby knife ear? No, wait, she was sobbing in my arms over his rejection just hours ago. Or was it a lifetime ago? It feels like it could have been in another lifetime entirely. Does this mean she is ready to move on, have a future with me? Or is this just for tonight" "**SHE DOES NOT LOVE YOU. SHE IS USING YOU. LEAVE HER BE**." "SHUT UP, Justice! She could love me. Maybe she does…she's not the type to just sleep with any man. She's good and pure…" "**YOU WILL REGRET THIS.**" "Then I regret it. I am not losing this opportunity. I love her. I've waited so long for this."_

He is elated. To feel her in his arms, kiss those lips that he has fantasized about for so long. He revels in her. Her scent is intoxicating and he feels like he could drink it in forever. Her soft skin smells of the Harlot's Blush soap she loves. He knows she uses it for her bath, as he has watched her when she shops at the market. He knows so much about her, surely he is the right man for her. He pulls back to gaze into her eyes. The only emotions he sees are love and desire raging like a fire. She is still in her clothes from falling asleep in his bed, and his hands are shaky as he raises them to undo the buttons of her shirt. His long fingers, usually so graceful, tremble and fumble. He slides one shoulder of her shirt off her porcelain skin, lowering his lips to kiss the smooth skin hiding there. Her eyes close in the pleasure his lips bring her, sending little shivers through her. She is holding on to his upper arms, and feels herself sway with the desire building in her. Her shirt falls to the ground, and she grins, hooking her index finger into the waistband of his pants. He is determined to take his time with her as she deserves warmth and tenderness, after all the death and destruction she sees day in & out.

His hands frame her face, and the kiss they share is soft and gentle. He reaches under her knees, lifting her in his arms. Carrying her to the bed, he gently lowers her body to the mattress. It's not the silks and satins she sleeps on now in her High Town manor, but the bedding is clean and soft from years of use. The rough stubble on his chin tickles as he nuzzles her neck. He settles himself over her, gazing at her with desire glazed eyes.

"I have waited so long for this, my love. Are you sure?" he whispers and his heart soars as she nods.

"I've never wanted anything more in my life" she whispers. Every night, she visits his dreams. Every night he holds her in his dreams, and every night is a different torturous pleasure. Every morning he wakes to find himself alone in a cold bed. And every day he sees the elf and his Hawke. She is his, damn it, she just didn't know it yet. But after tonight…after he had shown her how much he loves her, how he could care for her, things will be different. Better. She will see. She HAS to see. He unhooks the top button of her pants, and she wriggles her hips to help him as he slides the material off her body. The movement of her beneath him nearly kills him. He cannot wait to make her writhe and cry out his name in passion. Her smalls are now the only things she wears. Two small, very thin pieces of fabric separating her bare flesh from his. He sees her nipples, taught against her breast band. He slips his calloused fingers under her breast band, finding a nipple. He rubs his finger over it, loving the feel of the hard, pert tip. His hardness presses against her leg, and he aches to slip inside of her.

She moans softly and unhooks the clasp on the breast band, letting the material fall slack. He removes it, as reverently as if he is unwrapping a priceless gift. Which, to him, is exactly what he is doing. Her full, perfect breasts greet him and he lowers his lips to caress one nipple, then the other. Her breath catches in her throat and she runs her fingers through his hair, rubbing his ears as she does so. She trails her hands down his back, lightly stroking down his spine to his very well defined buttocks. She arches her hips and slides her panties off.

"Your turn" she commands, huskily. He grins, raising himself up and off of her just long enough to nearly rip his pants from his flesh. Anders clasps her to him, feeling her naked warmth against his body. She is so tight, every muscle taut. Her body is sculpted from years in the field, and yet she is all woman. His breath is sweet and warm and it whispers in a husky voice the things he wants to do to her. Kissing her lips, her cheeks, nibbling at her earlobes…he trails hot wet kisses down her chin, her neck…stopping at her fingers, he takes the tips in his mouth one at a time, sucking & biting gently. She gasps as little waves of pleasure spark through her.

"I can't…I can't go any slower, love. I need you now." He whispers apologetically. He so very much wants this to be perfect, but it has been so long since he has been with anyone, and he is trembling with need. Her legs wrap around his hips as she takes his rigid cock in her hand and guides it inside of her. She is perfection. It is all, and more, than he has ever dreamed of and wished for. She is unbearably tight and wet. He enters her slowly, kissing her neck as he does so. She gasps at how big he is. But it is not enough. She grasps his firm buttocks in her hands and squeezes, whispering, "More. I want…I need more."

"How much?" he asks.

"All of you. I need you inside of me. All of you."

He gasps in pleasure and surprise as she takes all of him, wrapping her legs around his waist tighter. Her cries of pleasure echo off the walls and in some part of his mind, he is happy they are in Dark Town where no one gives a shit if she screams with all the force her lungs can muster. He lifts her legs from around his waist, moving them up by his ears, filling her even more completely. He pounds into her, relentlessly. Suddenly, he withdraws, leaving her gasping in displeasure.

"Wha…" before she can finish the sentence, he turns her onto her stomach, jerking her hips back against his throbbing manhood.

"On your hands and knees," he commands gruffly. She complies, sticking her delicious ass in the air. He enters her again from behind, plunging his rigid cock back inside of her wet pussy, hammering hard and fast. His calloused finger rubs her clit back and forth, then in circles. She moans, biting the pillow in front of her as she tries to stifle a scream. His magic sparks from his fingertips as he nears his orgasm. He withdraws again, turning her, wanting to see her face as she comes. He slips into her, gently this time, and slides his warm hands under her back to grasp her shoulders. She wraps her legs around his waist and arches her back.

"Ahhhh! FUCK ME!" she screams, grabbing fistfuls of the bedclothes. Grunts and incoherent screams are heard from the small clinic, but again, it is Dark Town. No one cares. Her orgasm hits him and he feels her tighten around him. He wants to do more, so much more, to her, but the intensity rocks him and he cannot hold back. His own orgasm rocks through them both, and he explodes into her, crying out her name in the dark. He whispers that he loves her as he presses a soft kiss to her lips, pulling her closer to him. Cradling her against his chest, he spoons her as he falls into a deep sleep.

Hawke:

The Fade had claimed her quickly after the tea had warmed her belly and relaxed her mind. She wasn't sure what had woken her from her slumber, but she thought she smelled him in her room. That delicious, intoxicating scent of leather and that soap he uses. Breathing deeply, she is almost certain she smells it. Opening her eyes slowly, she turns in her bed and sees him across the room. Bent over her desk, reading the latest book she had given him to practice with. He is unaware of her eyes watching him, and he tucks a strand of snow white hair behind his ear. He is so adorable when he is unobserved, she thinks. He would hate being called adorable, she smiles. She watches as he lays the book on the table, and stands, cracking his back. He crosses to the fire and she cannot contain her desire. She rises, crossing the short distance to her beloved. Perhaps she can convince him to stay? She wonders why she fell asleep during their lesson. She needs to make up for that, she thinks slyly.

His broad back to her, she boldly steps to him, resting her fingers on his shoulder. "Arielle?" he asks in that beloved, gravely tone. He turns, and she knows he can see her feelings in her eyes. As he stares at her lips like a drowning man seeing a cup of water, she knows now is the time. No more hiding behind fear. As they melt into each others lips, she sees his eyes burning with the desire ripping at her soul.

"Arielle, I love you. I've always loved you." She melts, knowing that these words are so hard for him to utter. She would be content to kiss him for hours, loving the feel of his hard lips pressed to hers, and then he asks if she is sure this is what she wants! How can she make him see how much she loves him? It has been so long since that other night. And she has had no lovers since him. He had been her first, and she feels a bit of pain as he enters her. But the pain is nothing compared to the bliss she feels in being in his arms, feeling him inside of her. But he…feels different…somehow. Her brain is fuzzy as she tries to remember the last time. Wasn't he…bigger? No. It must have just been because it was her first time with a man. As he pounds into her, she screams her orgasm until she feels she can go no longer. He flips her over, and his lyrium glows brightly in the dark. On her hands and knees, she reaches between his legs, grasping his balls, squeezing and massaging as he continues to plunder her from behind. Too soon, he whispers his apology and comes inside of her.

_"Didn't he last longer last time? Huh. Well, Isabella had said that men, if they wait too long, cannot hold it very long. So much for that famous elven stamina",_ she chuckles to herself quietly. She hears his gruff whispered "I love you" as he slips into sleep holding her gently from behind. As sleep begins to claim her, she realizes that somewhere, deep inside her, a small voice inside her mind had been telling her to stop the entire time.

The sun has not yet risen when she wakes with a start. Her body is sticky with sweat and she is shivering. She is unnerved by the sex dream she has had about Anders._ "Gotta lay off the whiskey, Arielle_," she thinks with a wry smile. She sighs softly. The world has finally righted itself and Fenris is hers again. She shivers again in the chilly early morning air and she is pulled closer to Fenris's warm, bare chest in the dark. And in the dark, as his chest rises & falls against her back as he sleeps, she realizes that something is very, very wrong. Her head is pounding, her brain feels fuzzy and her mouth has a foul taste in it. And there is a smell that is very wrong. It is fire, elfroot, and something else she cannot place. It smells like…Anders. As her befuddled mind races to clear the fog, she realizes that the arms around her, the chest behind her…is NOT Fenris. _"Who the FUCK is this in my bed?"_ She panics, and realizes she's not in HER bed. These sheets beneath her bare skin are…oh Maker. Her heart races as she turns her head and is met with the sleeping face of Anders.

Her breath catches in her throat and her heart thuds to a stop._ "No. No nononononononononono NO! This is NOT possible! What happened last night? Oh shit."_ She shakes his arm, desperate. His eyes open slowly and they are filled with love._ "Oh SHIT."_

He smiles sweetly. "Hey." His voice is thick with sleep. "Another go round? I suppose I could accommodate you." He smiles again and pulls her head down for a kiss.

"NO!" She pushes against his chest. "Anders! What happened last night?"

"The Maker answered my prayers. My wildest dreams came true. Literally." He grins, looking like the dragonling that ate the miner. "You, my darling, were…marvelous."

"It's obvious we had sex, Anders. But HOW? How did this happen?"

He rises on one elbow, a frown on his face. "Maker. You must really have been drunk. I'm so sorry Ari. I asked you…I thought...oh sweet Maker." He flops down on the bed, hands covering his face.

"Anders, I thought you were…" she bites her lip as she remembers how clear it all was. Was she really that drunk? Could drinking that much wine and whiskey do that? Not being a big drinker, she didn't know.

"What? You thought I was what?"

"I thought you…were Fenris." She hates seeing the anger and hurt cloud his amber eyes.

"Oh. Of course. You wouldn't have given yourself to ME. I'm not good enough for you. You have to be a dirty, filthy KNIFE EAR to be able to fuck the illustrious _Champion_. Should have known you'd never slum it in Dark Town unless you were out of your mind. You prefer the ambiance of corpses to candlelight."

She slaps him, hard across the face. "You're a bastard. You did something, didn't you? What. Did. You. Do. To. ME? You used magic, didn't you?"

"Ouch!" He holds his hand to his face, where an angry, red mark in the shape of her palm is forming. "NO! I would never use magic to…to…"

"Then why did I SEE HIS FACE and hear HIS VOICE? Feel HIS body in my arms?"

"I DON'T KNOW! I just gave you some tea…"

"YOU DRUGGED ME? I WILL KILL YOU!"

"NO! I don't know what was in the tea…."

She drags her clothes on, fuming. "Thanks Anders. You may not have meant to, but you gave me something and had no idea what it was and it caused me to sleep with you inadvertently when I wanted someone else. What would you call it?"

"The best night of my life!"

She storms out, running, cannot get home fast enough. She has to wash this night off her as soon as possible. As she runs home, she prays to the Maker two things: that no one stops her as she really cannot fight right now, and that Fenris never finds out.

He would rip Anders' heart out with relish.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to everyone for taking the time to read & review. As always, thanks to Hatsepsut for the insight, preview & help w/ the dragon bit. And for those of you asking, yes, there will be Fenris love…but I didn't want to just jump into it right after the last chapter. It's coming, dear readers.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four: Teardrops<strong>

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><p>Fenris<p>

Fenris groans against the hammering pain in his head. It feels as if there are small dwarfs with ice picks hacking away at his brain. There is also a ridiculously offending noise coming from the middle of the room. It sounds as if there is a very large, gorged dragon, rumbling with a tummy ache after too many barbecued miners. He slowly raises a hand to his face, trying to dislodge the grit from his eyes. The room is dark, but he squints as he slowly sits up. His mouth feels as if it has been stuffed with small bits of cotton, and his stomach is angrily protesting its emptiness.

The rumbling continues, and he looks around the room, trying to locate the noise. His head swims and the room spins, making his stomach lurch and threaten to lose what little food is in it. As he has so many times in the past, he vows never to drink so much again. He thinks he may actually keep that vow this time, as he has never been so excessive with his drinking before. This time was definitely overkill. It slowly dawns on him that he is in Varric's suite. _"How in the Maker did I end up here? Surely Hawke & I didn't…do anything in here"_ His eyes adjust to the darkness and he realizes that the growling dragon is occupying the low bed in the center of the room. "_Holy shit, that's Varric. Maker, but the dwarf can snore. How on Thedas can something so short make a noise like that?"_

He crosses the room slowly, as his eyes are still a bit bleary, and one of his legs is still asleep. He sees a plate of cheese and bread on the table by the fireplace, and shoves them in his pockets. He knows Varric can afford to buy more, and he hasn't eaten much in four days. He has been too busy filling his stomach with booze. As he nears the bed, he is greeted by the unwelcome sight of Varric's bare ass. Apparently the dwarf prefers to sleep nude, and it appears that Varric's chest got all of the hair. Fenris grimaces, knowing this is not an image he will likely ever be able to forget. He gently touches Varric's shoulder, shaking him.

"Hmmph. Bianca. Dirty. Mmmm, I like that. Mmmph Hmmmph…cheese."

Fenris wrinkles his nose at the images running through his mind. _"What kind of sick freak dreams about his crossbow and cheese?"_ He shakes Varric harder.

**WHAT!"** Varric yells, his face scrunched up with hostility.

Fenris raises an eyebrow as the dwarf, usually so chipper, blasts forth his rage at being woken. When he sees it's Fenris, Varric scowls at him and turns back over, pulling his pillow over his head in protest. "Dwarf. Varric. Tell me how I ended up on your couch."

"Msabela mopped foff" comes the muffled reply from under the large pillow.

"What?"

A loud sigh emerges from the pillow. Varric turns back to Fenris, squinting with sleepy eyes. "Isabela dropped you off last night."

"Why would she do that?"

Varric sighs again, realizing he's not going to get any sleep until he gives the elf what he wants. "Isabela dropped you off here because you were too drunk to have sex with her."

Fenris' eyes widen, and Varric sees fear in them. "Apparently you thought you were with Hawke, and whispered Hawke's name in the dark, and Isabela brought you to me."

"No. That can't be right. I left with Hawke."

"No, Hawke left alone, after she watched you leave with Rivani."

Fenris is already running through his door as Varric finishes his sentence. Varric grins and pulls his blanket closer to his chest. He falls back to sleep with a smile on his lips, as visions of a brown haired dwarven lass, stroking Bianca, fills his mind.

He is panicking as he runs. She will never forgive him if she thinks he has slept with the whore. He is at her front door faster than he had anticipated. He needs time to think, to formulate a plan. On impulse, he scales the trellis outside her bedroom window. As he climbs, the thought enters his mind that this is a huge security risk, and that he should talk with her about having it removed. He knows she loves having the scent of Harlot's Blush right outside her window, but perhaps some nice potted versions would be better. He could even buy her some_. "Yes, I will do that. Soon."_ It is still dark, and he guesses it is not yet four in the morning. The moonlight streams into her room, casting a soft light upon her bed. Her empty bed.

"_Where could she be? Not with Isabela. Not with Varric. Surely not with the abomination. Maybe the blood mage? She's a female. No, it would be Aveline. Yes, that is the most logical choice. She would run to her friend Aveline. Females enjoyed talking to each other about men._" He realizes he is relieved she is not home. He would have burst into her room without a plan. Sitting outside her window, waiting for her to return, gives him plenty of time to think, and sober up. As he slowly chews the food he stole from Varric, he thinks of his plan. He knows that if he has to, he can bring in Varric and the whore. It makes him feel better knowing that he has two people Hawke trusts to back up his story.

The sun is just beginning to light the darkness when his pointed ears pick up a soft sound outside the front door. Her usually soft and quick step is heavy and slow. It seems like ages before she enters her room. He surmises that she must have stopped off to speak with her servants. He blends in with the shadows of the early morning, and he watches as she moves about her bedroom. She is so fascinating when she does not know she is being observed. She sits heavily on her bed, and begins removing her boots. She looks drawn and tired. He moves to go to her, but halts when he sees her servants, Bodhan and Sandal, enter her room. They each have one end of a large wooden bath, and they place it in front of her fireplace. Bodhan stokes the fire until it is roaring, and for the next few minutes, they leave and return, carrying buckets of steaming water. They fill the bath nearly to the top, and Hawke pours a large amount of something from a glass vial on her vanity. Orana enters as the men retreat, closing the door behind them. Hawke crosses to the screen in the corner of her room, and Fenris can see by the shadows on the wall that she is undressing. She emerges in a blue silk robe that ends at her mid thighs, and Orana takes the bundle of clothing Hawke hands her and retreats, closing the bedroom door quietly behind her. He watches as Hawke unties the robe, slipping it off her shoulders. His mouth goes dry as the gloriously nude vision of Hawke lowers herself into the steaming water. Orana enters again a few moments later, holding towels, a glass bottle and a chunk of soap. Hawke leans forward, and Orana pours liquid from the vial onto her palms, running it through Hawke's long black hair. Fenris's mouth hangs slack as he nearly drools at the sight of Hawke, with her eyes closed, Orana's long fingers working through her hair. He would give everything to be the one doing that for Hawke. Such an intimate, loving act, and her servant is doing what he should be doing.

He can almost feel her hair between his fingers, as he imagines himself bathing Hawke. His fingertips itch as he watches Orana take the bar of soap in her hands, lathering it with the water and rubbing the suds over Hawke's smooth shoulders. Orana massages Hawke's shoulders as she lathers the soap over her skin and Fenris notices how tense Hawke seems. He curses himself, as he is certain his foolish actions are the reasons for her tense body and late night. He continues to watch the agonizing show that is Orana and Hawke. It may be the simple act of a servant caring for her mistress, but to Fenris it is pure torture. He should be doing all of that, and more. He curses himself for his incredible stupidity and vows that she will never have to turn to another for comfort again. He will be the one she comes to with her problems, no matter how big or small, he will be the one she asks when she needs anything. He realizes that he now willingly wishes to do for Hawke what he was forced to do for Denarious. But for Hawke, he would do anything, gladly.

Orana helps Hawke out of the bath, and into a large, fluffy towel. Hawke wraps the towel around her, as Orana wraps another towel around Hawke's dripping locks. Orana leaves, closing the door quietly behind her, and Fenris watches as once again, Hawke becomes nude before his eyes. She drops the towel, and he watches with hungry eyes as she pulls on soft gray pants and a matching long-sleeved shirt. She gives her hair a good scrubbing with the towel, squeezing it to get more water out. She drops that towel on top of the one she used to dry her body, and sits at her vanity, slowly running her silver comb through her semi-wet hair.

His heart lurches in his chest as he sees tears slipping down her cheeks. He has seen her cry only when her sister died, and that heart-breaking night when he held her after her mother died. He slips silently through her window, and being back in her bedroom brings a rush of memories. Loving her so thoroughly in her bed, breaking her heart completely as he walked out her door. His stomach twists as he tries to banish the thoughts from his mind and focus on what he has come here to do. She sees him move in the mirror, and her hand stills. Why in the Maker's name has he chosen this night to come here? Too much has happened…she needs time. Time from all of them. Their eyes meet in the mirror and she sighs sadly. She wipes the tears from her eyes, and turns to face him. Seeing the concern on his beautiful face makes her gut twist. He will never forgive her if he knows she's slept with Anders.

"Why are you here, Fenris?"

"I…." his words falter, and his shoulders slump. "I came to apologize. I did not sleep with Isabela."

She is exhausted beyond belief. "Fenris, don't lie to me. I'm too tired. Do what you like, it's your life, but please, don't lie to me. I'm not an idiot. I watched you leave with her, and everyone in Thedas knows what happens when a man leaves with Isabela. She's very good, apparently. She's certainly had enough practice."

"Hawke…" he begins, but a conversation like this requires more intimacy. "Arielle, I have never lied to you and I'm not going to start now. Last night, I had been drinking for three days, and I thought I was going with you." Her face shows him exactly how much she believes him, and he continues, desperate for her to understand. "I would never sleep with that whore! I saw your face, and the next thing I knew, I was walking up the stairs. I thought I was going with you. I woke up with a pounding headache, alone, on Varric's couch. Nothing happened with Isabela and I left immediately to find you. Ask the dwarf, or even the whore."

"I want you to go, Fenris." _"Please stay."_

"But…"

"Please, just go" her voice is ragged and all she wants is to ask him to stay, to hold her. Every fiber of her being is crying out for Fenris to hold her, but she knows that having just come from Anders' bed, she will hate herself later if she allows herself to find comfort in Fenris's arms. Because she knows all too well that when it comes to Fenris, if he holds her like he is looking at her, she won't be able to deny him whatever he wants. And that will make her no better than a whore.

With a heavy heart, Fenris turns and leaves the way he came. When she is sure he has left, she crawls into bed, curling into a ball and weeps.


	5. Chapter 5

**I should mention that I've not yet played Awakenings, and writing the way Justice speaks was a bit tough for me. Still, I hope this in some way redeems Anders. Please, enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: Justice<strong>

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><p>Anders<p>

He doesn't know how long he's been lying in bed, cursing himself. He knows he should get out of bed and open the clinic, but he just can't make himself move. He feels like an idiot, and he's beyond angry with himself for not stopping Hawke's advances when he knew she had been drinking.

**YOU DID NOT HEED MY ADVICE. **

_Shut up, Justice. Just, go away. Leave me be.__I thought she wanted me. I truly did. I asked her….Maker be damned, I __**asked **__her! She'll never forgive me._

**YOU DESERVE WHATEVER PUNISHMENT IS COMING YOUR WAY.**

With that, he cannot argue. He rises, crossing to the wash basin in the corner. As he washes the night from his skin, he racks his brain, trying to find some spark of memory that would tell him that he did nothing wrong. But as he replays the events of the night, his gut twists, and he accepts what he has done. The fear he had felt of losing her, the elation he had felt with her in his arms, had caused him to throw away common sense and do something he will regret forever. He sighs, donning a fresh pair of trousers and a coarse linen shirt. He needs to escape this room. He knows he cannot see patients this day, as he cannot concentrate and that would not be fair to the people seeking his help.

He leaves the "Closed" sign up, praying to the Maker that he doesn't have many visitors today, although his gut tells him that he will. There is never a lag in people needing help in Darktown. His pace is quick, as it often is when he is thinking hard. He must find that vendor, find out what was in the herbs he gave her. He may be a prat, and he may have taken advantage of her drunken state, but he would never have drugged her. Such an action is so barbaric to him, it makes him want to vomit to think he did that to her.

He winds his way through the crowded streets, praying he doesn't see anyone he knows. He is in no mood for idle chit chat today. His head is throbbing and his gut is twisted, and he is certain any moment he will be sick all over his shoes. He cannot stop thinking of her in his arms, and the realization that she thought he was the elf makes his heart ache. Oh, Maker, the things he said to her before she left. He was so cruel. He finds the vendor and waits impatiently as the elderly man finishes his business with another customer.

"There, dearie, now come back and see me again soon!" The old man smiles a crooked smile, his voice raspy with age. His small round glasses sit perched on a bent nose, and his long white hair blows softly in the light breeze. The skin on his hands is wrinkled and cracked, and the fingers remind Anders of long skeletal bones. He nods to Anders to acknowledge his presence. "Be right with you, my boy!" he calls as he jots something in a book. "Oh! Hello, dear boy! I remember you! Have you returned to try my famous elfroot biscuits?"

"You remember me?" he is rather amazed that this walking corpse remembers five minutes ago.

"Of course, sonny! You spent a lot of coin. And besides, you looked so grumpy. And here you are again, looking grumpier still!"

"Yes, well, do you remember what you sold me? The herbs?"

The old man scoffs. "Of course. I keep every sale written down in my sales book. In case of refunds, you see. Have you forgotten what you bought?" The old man looks confused, and Anders finds himself growing more annoyed by the second.

"No, I haven't forgotten what I bought, you daft man. I need you to tell me what was in the herbal tea you sold me."

The old man shuffles slowly to the book he had written in when Anders first arrived. "Now, let's just see here…." He moistens one bony finger and turns a few pages. "Ah, here you are. Let's just see now. Was it the potion for erectile dysfunction?"

"No. It was a small brown bag of herbs. For tea."

"Was it the salve for itchy crotch?"

"NO. "

"Was it the powder you requested for irritable bowels? And how are your bowels today, my dear boy?"

Anders snatches the book from the old man, muttering under his breath. "My bowels are fine, and it wasn't for me." He scans the entries, finding the one he wants. "This one. THE TEA. The one you called Rest and Relaxation. What was in that?"

"Oh dear," the old man scrunches up his face. "Oh dear."

"What? Oh dear, what?"

"Well, dear boy, I must have sold you the wrong bag. I only had one Rest and Relaxation, and it's right here. I wonder what I sold you, then? What happened when you took it?"

"I didn't take it. I gave it to a friend, and she, er, um…she thought she was, um, being intimate with someone other than whom she was really with."

"Oh dear. That is troubling. I must have sold you Heart's Desire instead. That one is a doozy. It brings out the feelings you have for whomever you desire the most, and it makes you completely uninhibited in your desires for that person. Makes you think you're with that person. I hear it does wonders for role playing. That's why I made it you see. Me and the missus, oh, we used to love the role playing. I would be a dragon slayer, and she was the princess. Ahhh, my missus…she had the perkiest bosoms you ever did see! Hahaha! She used to love it when I'd stick my sword up her back cave. But it wasn't a sword! It was my dingle, you see. Here, have a free biscuit, on me. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Ewww. I did not need that mental picture. And no, thank you." He trudges away, ducking into a darkened alleyway. He can hear a whore and her customer a few feet away, but he doesn't care. His legs will no longer hold him, and he slides down to the ground. The elfroot biscuit the old man gave him before he left crumbles to bits as his hand fists around it, and the world blurs as the tears fall. Hawke will truly never be his.


	6. Chapter 6

**Short one, I know, but the next one should make up for that. I'm realizing as I write this that I have a bit of a cruel streak. I do feel a bit sorry for Anders, for what happens in this first bit and what for what is to come in a few chapters. Oh, and I've never written "drunk talk" before, so I hope it's not too awful. Thank you all for the love you've been sending.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Six: Truth<strong>

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><p>Anders<p>

He has been so wrapped up in his own little world that he has not noticed the dog pissing on him until it is nearly finished. "Great. Just great. I am not a tree!" he yells at the backside of the dog as it scampers off. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he rises, careful not to touch the puddle of urine next to him with his hands.

"Ugh. Could this day get any worse?" Mumbling to himself, and smelling of dog piss, Anders walks home. Staring around the tiny clinic, he has a sudden urge to get very, very drunk. He removes his clothes as carefully as he can, so as not to touch the wetness, and places them in the wash pile. He washes his legs, as the dog pee has soaked through his clothes to his skin, and he doesn't think he could drink enough to make the stench bearable. Besides, he may live in a shit hole, but that doesn't mean he has to smell like he does. Donning a fresh pair of pants and shirt, he grabs his coin pouch and heads to the tavern. It is the middle of the afternoon, so he doubts he will see anyone he knows there. Which is fine, as he just wants to sit in the corner and get piss drunk. He's in luck, as no one is there. Even Varric is curiously absent. He orders a bottle of whiskey and before he knows it, he's halfway through his second bottle. A pretty lass with blonde hair has been sitting next to him for the better part of an hour, listening to him prattle on about Hawke.

"You…you would look sooooo lovely with your hair, your hair like hers. She's my lovely hawk. But she's not a bird. She's a giiiirl. She paints her toes, you know. Have you ever painted your toes? You should meet her. You could be friends. I love her, you know. She came to me last night. To. ME. Meeeeee. Not to him. He's stooo….stoopid. She was crying over that stupid, stupid _ass head_. And we made loooove. And it was wonderful and now I can't see her because she hates me…." His head falls forward onto the table, banging hard against the wood. A small whimper escapes his lips. "Oww." He sniffles and continues crying with his head on the table.

Fenris

He has been sitting in the dark corner, studying Anders for quite some time, watching the abomination drown himself in cheap whiskey. The whore has been sitting next to him for too long, trying to entice him. She must really be desperate, as she hasn't left yet. Surely she does not find his company palatable? Anders did not notice Fenris enter the tavern, and Fenris is beyond happy about this fact. A confrontation with the abomination now will only make his mood worse. He has only had two bottles of wine so far, although he sorely wants to drink more. He knows that he needs to cut back, though, and plans on switching to water after this bottle is finished. His sharp ears pick up Anders' every word. He has mostly been tuning the moron's pathetic voice out, but it is as he utters Hawke's name that his ears perk up.

He listens to Anders drone on about her hair, her toes, _"Hawke paints her toes? This must be new. Wonder where she picked that up from? Probably Isabela."_ He smiles at the thought of Hawke being so feminine. His smile freezes on his face as he hears the next words fall from the mage's lips. The thought of Hawke in the arms of the abomination makes his stomach churn and his blood boil. He glares at the mage across the room, wanting to smash his face in. But the mage is nearly passed out, his face smashed against the table. There is a pool of drool beginning to form on the table. The whore has moved on, seeing an easier mark across the room. Fenris feels the desperate need to find Hawke and find out if this story is true. _"It can't be, she wouldn't….why wouldn't she? You certainly did your best to make her think you were uninterested."_ He stands too quickly, his chair falling as he rushes from the tavern.


	7. Chapter 7

**This one wasn't planned at all, but I started the first paragraph and just rolled with it. Because Isabela deserves love too. Or maybe just hot sex. The timeline is a bit off, because everything has taken place within just a couple of days so far, and this chapter feels a bit more like 3-5 days have passed. I had to fit the Isabela bit in, but it wasn't going to work with the next couple of chapters coming up, so I do apologize for any confusion this may cause.  
><strong>

**I hope you enjoy it.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven: Strangers In The Night<strong>

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><p>Isabela<p>

She has been avoiding Hawke since the night she attempted to sleep with Fenris. Hawke has not called on her, although she has secretly been hoping that she will. She misses her friend, and she hates herself for her stupidity. She's not had many friends in her life, especially not women. Most women she's known have felt either threatened or disgusted by her lifestyle. Hawke is the first woman to accept her for who she really is. She misses their easy banter, the casual flirtation they have enjoyed together. Isabela has secretly hoped that she can convince Hawke to warm her bed for at least one night, but she realizes that Hawke seems to be a one-team woman.

The night she left Fenris with Varric, she had found a young sailor to spend her time with. He is tall and muscular, with a face that reminds her a bit of Anders. She is thankful that he has a large cock, as she does so enjoy a well-endowed man. There is nothing worse than a hot man with a tiny earthworm dick. She purrs, stretching lazily. He is the first man she's had in awhile who has enough stamina to wear her out. She has discovered, much to her surprise, that she has enjoyed having the same man for the last few days. He has been varied enough in his skills that she has not gotten bored yet. He has been spooning her for the last few hours, since they fell asleep after their last round of sex. She rubs her bottom against his crotch, waking him. His rough fingers trail between her legs, finding her warm and wet. Licking her lips, she smiles broadly. "Mmm. You're spoiling me. Whatever will I do when you ship off?" She turns, kissing him deeply. With a wicked grin on her face, she straddles him backwards, and sticks her shapely ass in his face, wiggling it a bit to tease him. She takes his large cock in one hand, licking the tip. Her rough tongue licks up and down his large shaft, swirling around the tip one way, then the other. She flicks her tongue over the tip, varying between fast and slow flicks. She grasps his cock hard, squeezing and pumping her hand as she works his cock down her throat. Massaging his balls with her other hand, she revels in the groans and bucking hips of the man beneath her.

She is disappointed when he stops her, dragging her on top of him. He sets her down rather roughly on his hardness and she gasps in pleasure and pain. He is large and wide, and it feels as if he is filling her entirely. Leaning forward, she bites his neck gently as she begins riding him hard. He reaches forward, squeezing her breasts roughly. His hands move to her ass, and he slaps her hard, making her bite her bottom lip in pleasure. Her moans fill the room, and he increases his pace, grabbing her hips in his wide hands. He feels her juices coat him, but he has learned that she comes hardest from behind, and he prides himself on his skills. He withdraws as her body is shuddering from her first orgasm. Reaching down beside the bed, his fingers close around a black satin sash. He wraps her wrists together, and pushes her onto her stomach. He ties the sash to her headboard, and enters her from behind. He starts slowly, pushing his hardness inside of her wet pussy. He withdraws nearly all the way, then pushes in again. Isabela pants, begging him for more. Over and over he does this until she is nearly crying for him. He grabs her long black hair in one hand, pulling her head back as he pounds into her harder and harder. With his other hand, he reaches around, finding her clit and rubbing it in circles. Her second orgasm hits at the same time that his does, and he withdraws, spraying his cum on her backside. She dips her head, her ass in the air, white semen dripping down her ass to her legs.

Hawke is still wearing the blush on her cheeks when Isabela saunters into the tavern's main room an hour later. Isabela is wearing the contented flush of good sex, and when she sees Hawke at their regular table, her grin widens.

"Enjoy yourself?" Hawke asks, and Isabela can tell that Hawke has overheard them. In fact, the entire tavern seems to have heard them.

"Oh, he is unrivaled! I may have just found the perfect cork to plug up my barrel. "

Hawke laughs, realizing how much she has missed her friend.

Isabela takes Hawke's hand in hers, looking into her eyes. "Listen, Hawke. I'm sorry. Nothing happened with Fenny. I had no idea you still had feelings for him. I may be a bitch, but I'd never hurt you on purpose."

Hawke smiles. "Thank you Isa. And you are a total bitch."

The women laugh, and Isabela orders herself a whiskey, while Hawke nurses an ale.

"So, tell me about your new man."

Isabela smiles, "Well, his name is John. Or Johnny. I think. I guess it could be Paul." Hawke laughs harder than she has in weeks as she listens to the lurid stories of Isabela's latest lover.


	8. Chapter 8

**I was going one way with this, and then decided I needed some time to elapse. So Fenris becomes a big ol' chicken for a bit, running from his problems. This is right after Chapter 6, when Fenris left the tavern after overhearing Anders' drunken confession. Again, I'm sorry I had to time jump a bit. Please don't be too annoyed. Fenris love is coming VERY soon. Thanks for all the love!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight: Cowardice<strong>

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><p>Fenris<p>

He flees the tavern before he can strangle the drunken mage. He has to find out if what the bastard was saying is true. He wants to go to Hawke, but he can't just barge into her home, and he doesn't think she would appreciate it if he just snuck in like he did last time. His pace slows as he considers his options. He should go for a walk, clear his head_. "She's not yours. You gave up the right to have any say in what she does, and who she does it with, a long time ago. Even if she did lie with that monster, what right do you have to be angry with her? She did exactly as you hoped. She has moved on. Get over it." _With a heavy heart, Fenris walks home. He passes by her home on the way, and he hesitates in front of her door. His hand raises to knock, but he lowers it, and walks on. He desperately wants to see her, but he is terrified of what she will tell him. He slowly climbs the stairs to the second floor, kicking a skeletal hand out of his way as he does so. He slumps in his favorite chair, staring at the cold fireplace. His fingers itch for something to throw, and his mouth is parched. He needs…if he can just have one more drink, he'll have the courage he needs to face her, to hear whatever she might tell him.

Stalking to the cellar, he grabs three bottles of wine, uncorking and downing half of one before he makes it back to his room. He lights a fire in the fireplace and sprawls in the chair, scowling as he takes long swigs from the bottle. The wine does not have the same sweet taste it usually does, and he knows her sweet laughter is what he is craving, not the wine. She has cursed him. He cannot even enjoy something as simple as a fine wine, as thoughts of her with the abomination rip at his heart. Raging against her, against his heart, against the world, he throws the bottle at the wall. The shattering glass echoes through the empty mansion, the blood red liquid staining the cold stone wall and floor as it drips into a puddle. It is still light out, but he is tired, and decides to sleep. Fenris prefers to sleep nude, enjoying the feel of the bedding and the night air against his skin. As it isn't night yet, there is no cool breeze, and so he stretches out on top of his bedding. His mind refuses to rest, though, and visions of her perky, perfect bottom fill his mind. His mind slips back to the night they were together, and he licks his lips as he remembers the feel of it in his hands. Perfectly shaped, it had seemed to mold into his hands as he stroked and cupped it lovingly. He loves her ass. There had been too many times to count when the group had been following her and he'd just stared at her backside, imagining the things he would love to do to her.

He sighs, knowing there is one sure way to ease his mind and his weary body. He forces himself to relax, conjuring visions of Hawke as he lightly strokes his already throbbing member. As Hawke's beautiful face fills his mind's eye, Fenris is assaulted by the sight of the mage behind her, kissing her neck, fondling her breasts. Cursing loudly, Fenris opens his eyes. Even in his fantasies, he cannot escape them! Fenris swings his legs off the end of the bed, pulling on his trousers. Crossing to the forgotten wine, he begins drinking again, slipping deeper and deeper into dark thoughts of ways to kill Anders.

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><p>Days turn into weeks, and Fenris stays holed up in his mansion. He does not want to see the rest of the group, and he especially does not want to see the abomination and his Hawke. She came for him a few times, but each time he was passed out in the chair or on the bed. He knows she has been there, because he could smell her scent afterwards. It lingers in the mansion, taunting him. Night after night, he sits in his chair, staring into the fireplace. He sees her face before him in the flames, mocking him. He lies awake, unable to sleep, imagining her touch on his skin. He wonders where she is, every night. Is she at the Hanged Man, drinking with her friends, or is she with that cursed mage? He prowls the dark streets of Hightown on the many nights when he can't sleep. He always finds himself walking the short distance to her home, staring up at her window. He scales the trellis every night, just to watch her. Most nights the room is dark, but his eyesight is superb, and he can see her figure in the bed. He holds his breath as he scans the bed for another form, but she is always alone. Was he wrong? Was the mage just spouting lies or does she only visit him in his own home? He breathes deeply of the Harlot's Blush around him. When he closes his eyes, he can remember the way it mixes with her own natural scent. Some nights, the candle is still lit, and he watches as she reads her books, or writes in her journal. She looks so small, curled up in that big, empty bed. He loves the way her brow furrows, and he aches to rub his thumb over the dent that forms between her eyes. His own tongue tingles as hers darts out to moisten those petal soft lips. He knows exactly how she will taste, how she will feel, how soft her skin is. Fenris tells himself that he watches her like this to make sure she is safe at home, all alone in this big house. True, she has her servants, but a dwarf, his savant son, and a wisp of an elf who is afraid of her own shadow are not enough protection for his Hawke. The truth, though, is that he wants to be sure she is at home, alone.<p>

On the rare nights when she isn't home, he finds himself wandering aimlessly through the streets, always ending up at the Hanged Man. He slips through the front door, quiet and unnoticed. He hates this place with it's reeking stench of piss, stale liquor, and, most nights, vomit. Nothing good has ever come of being in this place. The night Hawke thought he screwed the whore, the afternoon he heard Anders talking about being with Hawke. Skulking in the shadows, he just wants a glimpse of her, to hear her sweet voice. If she is in the tavern, he watches, envious of how easily they can talk & banter, letting their guards down. To be so...FREE...with their emotions...must be heaven. If she is drinking with Aveline, Isabela, or Varric, he feels secure that she is in capable hands. They may get sloshed, but they always took care to see that Hawke made it home safely. If she drinks with Merrill, that fool girl who could barely care for herself, Fenris silently follows them home. But if her companion is _him_, he just leaves, not wanting to see where they go.

It has been a long day of stewing in self-pity, and Fenris is tired of missing Hawke's company. He is drunk, and he is angry, and decides he has been without her laughter too long. She is _his_, and it is time she realizes that. With each step toward her house, his fury grows.


	9. Chapter 9

**And here, my lovelies, is the Fenris love I've been promising. And yes, I know Hawke says some shitty things, but remember that she's really pissed off. Anyway, it's a long one, and it's pretty dirty. Hope you enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine: Beloved<strong>

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><p>Hawke<p>

It is a rare event, but Orana, Bodahn and Sandal are all out this evening. Orana had met a very nice young elf at the market a few days ago and had shyly asked Hawke if she could meet him at the Hanged Man for drinks. Hawke had been thrilled, and had spent all day fussing over Orana's hair and had bought her a new dress to wear. She had lectured her on the dangers of drinking, especially on a first date, and made sure that Orana had a full belly before leaving. She also made sure to get the young man's full name and address so she could hunt him down and maim him if he harmed her Orana. Bodahn had taken Sandal to the Wounded Coast on a father-son camping trip.

She finds it difficult to enjoy the quiet house. Unable to concentrate on any of the books in her library, she has taken to writing in her journal. She has been contemplating her thoughts about Fenris, and how she will probably never find another man to match him in her heart. And the mess with Anders, the awful night she spent with him. In retrospect, the sex was very good, but his methods make her shudder. She remembers everything about that night. She never should have gone there drunk in the first place, but she just wanted to be around someone who cared. She knew he had a crush on her, and now she knows he loves her. The way he had kissed her that night…like she was a fountain of clear water and he was dying of thirst. When he had held her, he had clung so tightly, almost desperately. She should have known he wasn't Fenris, as Fenris would never have held her like that. When he looks at her now, he has this awful mixture of love, regret, shame and need in his eyes. She has also noticed that he is becoming more obsessive in his devotion to what he calls "the mage's plight", and his obsessions have begun drawing him deeper and deeper into a dark place she cannot follow. There will be no good to come from this situation, she sighs sadly.

She is thankful that at least Fenris will never know what had happened, as Anders has sworn that he will never tell Fenris, or the rest of the group. Anders had come to her a few days after their night together, and had apologized for taking advantage of the situation. They had gone together to visit the old man, and he had explained the mix up with the herbs. The old man had smiled sweetly and given them each an elfroot biscuit as they were leaving. She had told Anders that while she appreciated the explanation and the apology, she wasn't quite ready to forgive him yet. It hurt her to see him in such agony over a mistake, but at the same time, she has a strange feeling about that night that she can't quite place. They have settled back into a routine, however, and she is thankful of that. She does need a healer for their excursions, and Anders is the best one around. They have even begun spending time together at the Hanged Man again, their conversation becoming more easy as it used to be. She sticks to her watered down ale, however, vowing never to drink whiskey again. The whole group is back together, with one exception. Fenris. She misses his face, his voice, even his brooding silence would be better than his absence. She visited him a few times, but he was always passed out, and she had left, saddened more and more each time. Whatever was bothering him was pulling him deeper and deeper into an alcoholic pit, and she ached to be able to pull him out, if only he would let her.

The front door of her mansion slams, rattling the panes of her windows. "**HAWKE!**" his voice thunders through the empty house. She jumps at the sound of his voice, and rushes out of her bedroom, flushed with worry. She takes him in-the enraged look on his face is the one he usually wears while in the heat of battle. She can see his hard muscles under his white linen shirt and soft brown breeches, taut with fury. Her mouth runs dry as she stares at him. He is always incredibly sexy, but even more so when he is furious. He is barely containing his rage-she can see the muscle in his jaw twitching as it does when he is close to losing it. His markings are glowing dangerously, and she knows the power that comes from them could kill her in seconds. Why does he have to be so damned **_sexy_**? The air around him vibrates with anger as he fumes at her. He glares at her, his mossy eyes dark with rage. He takes the stairs two at a time until he is inches from her face. Her breath catches in her throat.

"Fenris?" she ventures cautiously. _"Has someone died? Oh, SHIT! The slavers have returned! _ _No, you moron, this has something to do with Anders. Why would it be about Anders?_ _ I'm not with either of them and Fenris has made it clear he wants to be left alone to be a drunkard." _Her brain clicks off as the heat rolls off him in waves. She's not sure she's ever seen him THIS incensed. His eyes narrow to slits. His gravelly voice, the one that she could listen to for hours, has taken on a dangerous tone. The last time she heard his voice like this, was when he was promising to let Hadriana go. Right before he plunged his fist through her chest and ripped out her beating heart, crushing it to a bloody pulp. She swallows nervously.

"I was at the Hanged Man a few weeks back. You won't believe the story I heard."

Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips. He knows she does this when she's nervous. The tell that she is, in fact, nervous, makes his blood boil even more. He knows, in that instant, that what the bastard was saying is true.

"Oh? One of Isabela's tales again?"

"No." His voice is clipped. "The abomination was _drunk_."

The blood drains from her face. _"No, certainly Anders wouldn't…oh Maker. You'll be the laughingstock of everyone in Kirkwall. If Mama was still alive, she would be humiliated beyond belief."_ The conversation that would pour forth from the highbred, snooty ladies of Hightown plays through Arielle's mind in a split second._"Oh, look, here comes Leandra. HER daughter likes to fuck elves who squat in a mansion reeking of death and decay.""Oh, but AFTER she screwed the filthy knife ear, who, by the way, doesn't even wear SHOES! Hahahahaha! Oh, after that, she went slumming in LOW TOWN! She screwed that apostate! You know, the one who **touches** the filthy knife ears and homeless. I wonder what diseases the elves have. Let's not invite her to tea any longer."_ She is jerked back to the present by the beautiful man in front of her, seething with rage.

He sneers, inches from her face. They are nearly nose to nose."You should have heard the tale he was telling, Hawke." Her pulse quickens with fear.

"What…what did he say?" _"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuckity fuck fuck fuck."_

"You. Were.** WITH**.** _HIM_**." He punctuates every word with more vehemence than the last.

"Well, yes, we spend a lot of time together…" _"WHY did you say that? You are a complete moron. Stop pissing him off even more!"_

The rage flashes across his face and as he lets out a frustrated growl, he pushes her against the wall roughly. His markings flare a bright blue. Her mind registers the danger, but there is no way to get out of his vice like grip, and her knives are across the room_. "Shit. Not even safe in my own damn home._ _Maybe with a kick to the groin…at least that would be SOME form of contact with his nether regions." _

"This is not the time to be glib, Arielle." His breath, usually cool, is hot and she can smell wine.

"You're drunk" she scoffs, pushing against his hard chest, but he is like a stone wall.

"Not drunk enough" he hisses.

"FINE!" she yells in his face. "YES, we were together. ONE night we had sex. It was one of the biggest mistakes of my life and if I could take it back I would. Why do you even CARE?"

She hates fighting with people she loves. Give her a dragon, a slaver, a blood mage, and she is at home. But throw emotions into the mix and she just feels like she's drowning in quicksand. Without pausing for breath, she barrels forward. "Anders LOVES me! He held me and listened to me cry after you…YOU…" she jabs her finger into his chest…"continued to ignore me after walking out on me after…what you and I did. He told me I was beautiful and smart, and witty and that YOU were a knife-eared fool!" She hates, HATES using that slur but she is so angry she cannot stop that and other words from spewing forth from her mouth.

"He held me the night that YOU went with Isabella! Anders MADE LOVE to me. He did things to me you don't even know HOW! I wanted _YOU_, you stupid ASS! But **YOU DIDN'T** **WANT ME**!" She knows she has gone too far…he seems to be glowing blue with the fury welling up in him & his eyes narrow again. She takes a breath, hating herself, hating him, hating the situation. She feels vicious and mean. She hates acting like this but he has pushed her too far.

He grabs her arms before she knows he has even lifted his. He pulls her to him and his grip is so tight, she is unable to free herself. He crushes his lips on hers painfully, forcing her lips to part to assault her mouth with his tongue. In this instant, she hates him. She hates that he can just waltz back into her room and act like she belongs to him. Hates the way his hands on her skin makes her body react. Hates that her body is betraying her while his lips ravage her mouth. But she loves him so very much. Her knees begin to fail her as he kisses her for what seems like ages. She never wants to stop kissing him. His lips, usually hard and cold, mold to hers, becoming soft and loving. Finally, he sighs and pulls away. He looks at her, realizing that what she did, she did believing there was no future with him. His own fault, as that is exactly what he wanted her to think. So she WOULD move on. Should have known Anders would swoop in like a vulture.

"I'll show you how much I didn't want you. Still don't want you" he whispers huskily, sending shivers down her spine.

Fenris lifts her off her feet, slamming her down on her dresser, sending her silver etched comb and mirror, small glass bottles of oils for her bath, small silver jewelry box tumbling to the floor. His mouth is hot and angry, his lips devouring her as his hands work her body. One hand snakes under her shirt and finds her breast, massaging it, thumb working over the nipple, making it hard, while his other hand works to undo the ties of his leather breeches. Somewhere in his mind, he registers that her legs have come up, locking her ankles around his waist and that her hands have buried themselves in his hair. She is pulling tightly, crushing his mouth to hers like she is dying and needs his breath. He presses against her, letting her feel how much he "doesn't" want her. Maker but he is enormous. And hard so fast. She cannot wait to free the caged beast. He tears his mouth from hers, kissing her ears, nibbling on the lobes, kissing her face. Running his fingers through her dark hair, he frames her face with his hands, staring at her. He takes a ragged breath, leaning his forehead against hers. He has missed the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips. So soft, so fragile. She is without her makeup and she is all the more beautiful in her natural state. He plants feather light kisses along her jaw, kissing his way down her neck. He nuzzles the side of her neck, where he knows she is very sensitive. She giggles and the ticklish sensation makes her tilt her head the side, denying him access, and he laughs. He places an open mouthed kiss in the hollow of her throat. Taking his face in her hands, she kisses the markings on his chin. Pleasure shoots through him to his toes as she licks the lyrium. Finding his lips again, she catches his bottom lip in her teeth, lightly nipping. Not sure how much more of this he can handle, he knows he needs to get her pants off soon. He grasps her ass in his hands and carries her as she clings to him, still kissing, to the bed. He falls forward, and they tumble to the bed together. He grins at her as he strips his shirt & pants off. _"Maker but he is beautiful."_ Her eyes drink in the sight of him & her mouth is dry. She feels herself grow wet through her clothing, and he smiles that he has this effect on her.

Roughly, he asks, "Did the mage do_ that_ to you?" She shakes her head, unable to speak.

She tugs at her own clothes, but Fenris has a different idea. He stills her hand with his and at her confused look, he smiles slyly. He knows she keeps her daggers in strategic places & reaches to her night stand. As expected, he finds a silver dagger hidden in the drawer. He pulls her red linen shirt forward at the neckline with his finger. Holding it from her body, he gently makes a nip in the fabric. It tears easily beneath his strong fingers. "Oops" he smiles as her large breasts fall out. She is not wearing her bindings this day, lounging at home.

"Hey! That was one of my favorite shirts!" she cries in mock horror.

"I'll buy you another" he growls as he hungrily stares at her breasts. His attentions move to her breeches next. They are soft and black, with leather laces from hip to thigh. He cuts each lace slowly, deliberately. The pants split, revealing creamy flesh. He peels the fabric down, revealing that she is also not wearing panties. One black eyebrow raises as this side of Hawke is revealed.

"It's laundry day" she shrugs, lifting her hips so Fenris can remove her ruined pants.

"It would appear you owe me a new outfit" she teases.

"So it would seem." He replies, a smile in his voice. "I'll win it in Wicked Grace." Fenris rarely wins at Wicked Grace and she hates to think that if he DID manage to win, that he would spend his winnings on her. It has been so long since he has gazed upon this sight. He did not realize how much he had truly missed looking at her. So he looks now. Longingly.

"You can do more than look, you know" she says softly.

He places a finger to her lips. "Let me indulge…like you do with your sweets." He likes that image. Of her being a delectable treat to savor and nibble, and he tells her this, sending a blush to her cheeks. He realizes what a fool he has been. A blind, stupid fool. The years have added more scars to her body, both seen and unseen. He traces a long one that begins at her left ribcage, running along the length of her stomach, and ends behind her right shoulder blade. The raised skin curves in a vicious angle. That day will forever be imprinted on his brain. The day he suggested she duel the Arishok to hand to hand combat. He'd never actually thought she would go through with it, but she had. What a damn foolish woman, he'd thought at the time. He'd known, as he'd looked into her eyes after she had accepted, as she was gathering her healing potions & stashing them in all her pockets, he'd just known she had accepted to save the rest of them. Her only family left, he'd thought bitterly.

He lowers his lips to kiss the memory. She gasps as his lips touch the ugly memory. She has so many now, she has lost count. Suddenly she feels self-conscious. She is not the same, smooth skinned girl she was when they were together before. He feels her pulling away and looks at her with questions in his eyes. She casts her gaze to the side, not wanting to look at him.

"They are ugly. I am not the same as before."

Sitting up, he takes her chin in her fingers, forcing her head gently back so he can look directly into her eyes. "I am ashamed of my markings, but they are not easily hidden as yours are. They are a constant reminder to the ugliness that is my past. When I look at myself, I still see a weak slave."

She's dumbfounded by this. "Your markings are breathtaking. They are a part of you and I love every part of you. I do not see a "weak slave" when I look at you. I see a proud warrior."

She has a knack for making him feel humble. "Then you can understand why I kiss your scars," he tells her, sweetness and love in his voice. Her mouth opens and closes as she has nothing to say to this. A warmth spreads, making her feel mushy. Her heart thuds in her chest as he lowers his head to her scar again, finishing the trail it makes. He finds every scar that she can hide with her clothes, and after he has kissed them all slowly and lovingly, he finds the ones she cannot hide. The one on the back of her neck where she was nicked by the mage's lightening spell. The small one on her ankle is especially fun, as it makes her foot jerk and he realizes she is ticklish there. He tucks that piece of information away for later. Leaning forward, his hair tickling her skin, he captures her nipple in his mouth. He licks it, slowly circling it with his tongue. He breathes on the erect nipple, causing sighs of pleasure from Airielle. He does the same for the second nipple, and once they are both hard to his satisfaction, he straddles her hips & places his arms on either side of her, hovering above her.

"Now," he growls, "tell me. What you want."

She blushes, suddenly shy. "I'm not sure you really want to know."

"Yes, I really do. If it will bring you pleasure, I want to know what it is. From this day forward, I want to be the only one to cause you every bit of pleasure possible."

Finally, she sighs. Embarrassment creeps over her face.

"Ari?" he gently prods.

She lets out a loud sigh. "Fiiiiiiiiine. It's something Isabela told me about. But I don't even know if you'll like it."

He is surprised to realize she's stalling and embarrassed. He rather likes this shy side of her, he thinks. He leans forward and whispers in her ear. She bites her bottom lip and nods.

"I had no idea you were so kinky, Hawke. " He is thrilled beyond words that she trusts him enough to want to try this erotic act. "However, before we get to your, _request_, there are other things I must tend to first."

"What, 'other things'?"

His low, gravelly laugh is all the reply she gets as she feels his fingers lightly tracing the curve of her stomach, down her leg and back up again. It stops and slips inside her warmth. She gasps in pleasure and he goes deeper. He gently thrusts his finger in and out as she moans softly. He rubs her clit in circles with his thumb, making her moan with pleasure. He parts her soft flesh as he continues stroking with his long, nimble fingers. His hands are large and calloused, his fingers deft and skillful. He takes his finger out, smiling as she whimpers her protests. He kisses her slowly and deeply, kissing his way down her body to her pussy. Once there, he licks and savors, finding the nub that he was moments before teasing. His hot breath is intoxicating. Her hands grip the sheets, balling them in her hands. He grabs her hands in his strong grip, holding them above her head. His rough tongue licks her folds, sucking gently at the pink flesh. He flicks his tongue over her clit, licking in slow circles. He changes the direction of his circles, alternating between fast flicking and slow licking. Her hips lift and she bucks toward his mouth. He smiles against her, feeling pride at causing her such pleasure.

She moans, wanting him inside of her. She threads her fingers through his silky white hair, grabbing handfuls and tugging insistently for him to move his body up and over hers. "Please" she begs.

"Patience is not your greatest virtue" he tells her.

"I don't…want…to be…patient. I want you. Inside of me. Now"

"Soon, Lufestre."

Fenris has been hard for some time, and now is the time to find release for them both. He knows what he is doing feels amazing to her, but he decides it is time to give her what she asked for. His olive green eyes grow dark with heat and a smile tugs at his lips. He reaches for the bottle of oil she keeps on the night stand. She uses it before she sleeps, to keep her hands and feet soft. He rubs the oil on his fingers, and on his throbbing cock, making it glisten with moisture. He will outdo that fucking mage if it kills him. Lying on her back, her body flushed with pleasure, she is the most entrancing, exciting creature he has ever seen. He leans over her body, admiring the way her breasts rise and fall with her excited breath.

"Ari?"

"Mmmm?" she moans her response.

"I don't want to hurt you, so let me know if you want me to stop." He slips a finger inside of her, slowly and gently. She gasps with pleasure and he gently stretches her, preparing her for what is to come. She is just comprehending the intense pleasure his finger is causing her when it slips out and something much, much larger slips slowly and gently in. The pleasure pain rocks through her core, making her lift her hips to give him more access. He goes slowly and carefully, gently filling her ass with his enormous member. He watches the emotions play out on her face, feeling desire, lust, love, and pride welling up inside of him. His every being cries out to go faster, harder, bury himself in her, but he refuses to give in. He leans in & kisses her neck, nuzzling the spot in her neck that makes her squeal. She arches her body toward him, begging for more with her body. She reaches behind her and grabs the bed post. He watches the muscles in her arms bulge as she hangs on while riding her wave. Unsatisfied, she rakes her nails across his back. His smooth, marble skin will retain evidence of their love for a few days.

She has to have more. She wraps her legs around his waist, locking her ankles together. She has to bring him in deeper, closer. Burying her fingers in his silky hair, she tugs hard, bringing his lips back to her mouth. Spurred on by her aggression, his tongue wages a war with hers. Fire ignites as their tongues wrestle. "MORE" she demands.

He holds her steady with his hands on her hips. Watching her face, he sees the wonder and pleasure that this near pain causes her. He keeps the pace a slow, steady, in and out, filling her to the brim and then stills as he feels the orgasm tighten the muscles around him. It is the most intense feeling either of them has ever experienced. The feeling of him inside her is beyond amazing, and she does not want it to end. Grabbing fistfuls of his snowy white, soft tendrils, she pulls him hungrily to her. Smashing her lips against his forcefully, she wraps her legs tighter around his waist, bringing his cock even deeper inside of her. She grabs his ass in her hands & tells him to move faster. He complies, sucking on her neck, biting and leaving what will become a very large bruise in a few hours. Deeper and faster he pushes his cock in her tight ass, tearing his mouth from her neck to fasten around her nipple, sucking and licking with his hot mouth. As they come together, he fills her ass with his load of hot semen. As they lie together, panting for air, he reaches down and feels inside of her pussy. His fingers come up wet and slick.

With a sly look in his eyes, he leans down and licks her clean. "Mmmmm….lover, you taste so good."

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><p><strong>Translation: "Lufestre" means "Lover" in Old English. I couldn't find one in Latin I liked.<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**Short, sweet fluffy fluff. Takes place immediately after last chapter. Because it can't all be angst and smut.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten: Contentment<strong>

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><p>Hawke &amp; Fenris<p>

"Wow. That was. That was unbelievable." She turns to him, kissing him deeply. "Thank you SO much for indulging me." She's still a bit breathless and flushed from Fenris' lovemaking.

She is wearing a most contented look, and he decides that he would like to see that look every night. He plans on wearing them both out a lot in the nights to come. "Happy to oblige. However, as much as I enjoy you wearing my scent, I am sticky from your incessant love making. Where is your bath tub?" he asks.

She laughs. "MY incessant lovemaking? Was I here alone?"

He shrugs. "You clearly seduced me, bewitching me with your wily womanly ways." His beautiful green eyes are twinkling as he smirks at her.

She loves this lighter side to him, but is curious as to something he said. "Wait. How do you know I own a bath tub?"

"I. saw you. The night you threw me out of here. I had watched as Orana bathed you. It was. More than enjoyable. "

"Watched me? From where?"

He nods to her window. Her eyes follow and she realizes her balcony is the perfect spot for prying eyes. "You're such a pervert, Fenris" she laughs, though in reality she feels excited chills run down her spine.

"Look who's talking. You have quite a kinky mind hiding behind such a sweet face."

"What? Disappointed?"

"Did I seem disappointed?" He leers at her, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Ah, no. No, you seem to have rather enjoyed yourself."

"That I did. Immensely. But you have reminded me of something I wanted to speak with you about. You really should remove that trellis. Anyone could climb it, you know. Not just handsome elves."

She laughs "My, what a big ego we seem to have all of a sudden."

He quirks his eyebrow at her. "Compared to other parts of me, my ego isn't that big."

"Mmmm. So very true. Well, if I remove it, how will you watch me next time?"

"Why watch when I can participate? If that would please you."

"Oooo….yes, please. "

"Can we have that bath now?"

"Normally I would say yes, but heating the water would take a really long time, and you've worn me out. I need sleep."

He looks so crestfallen she cannot help but laugh as she strokes his face, cupping her hand around his cheek. He closes his eyes, leaning into her palm.

"Tomorrow, my love. I promise. In the meantime, there are clean cloths, water and soap on the wash table over there." Fenris rises, his naked body making her wish she's not as tired as she is. Turning, he takes her hand in his, pulling her with him to the darkened corner where the porcelain pitcher and bowl sit on a wooden table. He pours some cool water into the bowl and dips a chunk of dry soap in the water. Rubbing the soap between his hands, he lathers her body with it. Her hands rest on his strong shoulders, and she notices that he takes special care around her bottom. Dipping a white cloth in the water, he slowly and gently wipes her body clean. Her eyes close, and she gently sways with the pleasure she feels as his rough hands work over her body, methodically rubbing every inch of her skin. When he has finished this intimate and loving act, she returns the favor, her eyes roaming over his toned and muscular body like a dog coveting a large, meaty bone. She is extra gentle when washing over his markings. Running her hands over his smooth, cool skin, she enjoys watching how his silvery skin glistens in the moonlight.

Never in his life has someone cared for him this way, and he finds himself falling even more deeply in love with her. When they are both clean, she pulls a large, fluffy towel from the table, drying him first, then herself. He picks her up, cradling her naked body against his. He carries her back to the bed, laying her gently upon the mattress. His moss green eyes gaze tenderly into hers, and in that moment, he sees a lifetime with her. Kissing her gently, he strokes her face tenderly, smiling. She turns to her side, and he wraps his strong arms around her waist. She nestles her body against his, and with his hand lightly stroking her stomach, she drifts to sleep. With thoughts of her naked body dripping with water from the bath they are to share the next day, his mind relaxes and surrenders to the Fade, content in the knowledge that she is finally his completely.


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry this has taken awhile, but life, in the form of a sweet 2 1/2 year old & writer's block got in the way. And I think my muse may have been in a coma. For those of you who have asked repeatedly, YES, the Anders chapter IS coming. I am trying to make it 2 chapters from this one, but sometimes I get zapped with a chapter that needs to be written before that one. Anyway, thanks for bearing with me & I hope you enjoy a small bit of domestic bliss. Also, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to my awesome reviewers. I love you all!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: Getting To Know You<strong>

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><p>Hawke<p>

The early morning light streams in the window, bathing the room in soft hues of pale rose and amber. She stirs, hearing him sigh softly in her ear. He has held her all night, and she feels warmth spread through her body as she realizes that her dreams have finally come true. She has found the person she is meant to be with, and he has finally accepted her love. The words he said to her last night are a testament to this fact. She knows Fenris does not speak lightly, and when he gives his word, he means it. She feels such pride as she watches him sleep. He is lovely, as he lies covered by her sheet, his features so relaxed and soft. As he slumbers, his face is devoid of the pain and unhappiness that has broken her heart these many years. She wonders idly how old Fenris is. He looks younger in sleep than he normally does, and she wonders what he was like as a child. Was he a quiet child, contemplative and serious as he is now? Might he have been like her baby brother Carver, making his parents want to pull their hair out as he climbed on every high piece of furniture he could get to? She can still remember her parent's faces as they were told to "come watch me fly" as Carver pretended he was a dragon and tried to fly off their roof. She envisions living with Fenris in a small country home, surrounded by the peace and solitude of the countryside. The house will be full of love and laughter. Their friends will visit during the day and they will make love during the quiet, still nights. She can see the fire blazing, as Fenris plays Wicked Grace with Donnick, Varric, and Isabela. She, Merrill and Aveline will play with the children. In her mind, she sees clearly the children she desperately wants with Fenris. In a perfect world, they will have both a boy and a girl. They both will have Fenris' beautiful green eyes and lovely pointed ears. The girl will have Bethany's sweet personality and the boy will have Carver's mischievousness. They will have their father's courage and her sense of humor. Their babies will be the perfect mix of both of them. Life will be perfect. She smiles as she envisions Fenris teaching their children to fish and then remembers he hates fish. She cannot stop smiling as she remembers how her brave warrior had shuddered at the mention of fish.

Mentally shaking herself back to the present, she gives him one last, appreciative look. She would prefer to give in to her baser desires and pounce on him, but she has errands to run. Besides, he needs to sleep. She knows he suffers from terrible insomnia, and is thrilled that he is able to sleep so peacefully in her bed. Whether it is because of her presence or because she tired him out the night before, she does not know, but she vows to make the rest of his nights tiring and pleasant enough so that he can sleep. And perhaps his afternoons. She grins as she wonders if Fenris has ever experienced an "afternoon delight." She slowly slides out of bed so that her movements will not disturb him. She has no idea where her brush is, as nothing is on her dresser after last night. She cannot see very well in the dim room, and does not feel like searching for it on her hands and knees. Tiptoeing quietly across the room, she eases the door open slowly and soundlessly, slipping into the hall. She has no fears of being seen naked, as she knows Bodahn and Sandal will still be camping. Even if they had returned unexpectedly early, she knows the upper floor will still be dark in the early morning and the men rarely rise this early.

Orana has left a folded pile of clean wash outside her door. _"Maker bless that woman"_, she thinks, blushing as she realizes Orana did not knock on her door last night as she normally would, because she must have heard them. Running her fingers through her tangled hair and pulling on a fresh pair of panties, she finds a pair of soft, tan leather breeches and a loose fitting brown shirt. As she dresses, she wonders absent-mindedly how Orana's date went and what time she came home last night. She pulls on a pair of heavy woolen socks, noticing that Orana has sewn up the toes yet again, and it occurs to her that she should just buy some new ones. She creeps down the stairs, finding her boots and cloak by the front door. The air still has a chill in it, and as she walks toward the market, her breath comes out in small puffs. Winter is coming, her least favorite season. Maybe this winter won't be so bad, because she will have a warm body to curl up with on cold nights. She smiles as she walks, thinking of cozy nights before the fire and Fenris's warm body loving hers every night.

She browses the various wares, coveting a particularly stunning potion flask. It is silver, with a simple cork top, as most of them are. However, this one has intricate etchings of flowers and a small wolf on one side. She cannot resist and parts with the five gold. She is romantic and sentimental and it makes her smile to think that she will always have her wolf by her side, carrying lifesaving potion. Not that she intends to ever let him be away from her side again, though. She spies the tailor and walks in his direction, hoping he has some warm, sturdy socks for sale. His wife has been heavy in her seventh month with their eighth child and has not been able to provide the variety of products she usually does. Arielle could go elsewhere to buy her clothing, but she really likes Mason and his wife, and knows her coin goes toward feeding a large brood of adorable children. Mason, a heavy-set man with kind blue eyes and short brown hair, smiles at her warmly as she approaches his stall.

"Good morning, Champion! Can I help you find something this fine morning?"

"Good morning, Mason. How is Velentina feeling these days?"

"Ah, thank you kindly for asking after her. It will warm her heart to hear that you asked after her health. I fear this babe has been harder on her than the others were. She has been in her bed with healer's orders to remain there until the babe shows her face. "

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Mason. I'll bring her a basket of biscuits and jams in a couple of days."

"She'd love that, thank you."

Remembering why she is there, she tells him she is looking for new socks.

"Ah, the socks are over here, Champion." Mason guides her to a basket of merino lambswool socks, thick and soft.

She buys three pair of the socks, hoping that she won't have to replace them for some time. As she is turning to leave, she sees a small display of hair ribbons. She has plenty at home, but she falls in love with a long, ivory grosgrain ribbon with small black orchids embroidered on the ends. Next to the ribbons is a small basket of items that gives her an idea, and she smiles as she parts with her coin, fingering the one she has chosen gently.

She briefly glances at the selection of outer garments, but then she remembers that Fenris is to buy her next set of clothes. She smiles to herself as she wonders if he will simply give her the coin, or if he will actually purchase clothes for her. She shivers a bit as she thinks of him choosing something just for her. She can feel herself blushing as she imagines him peeling away those clothes, kissing her inner thighs.

Thanking Mason, she promises again to drop by his home and visit his wife and children. This leaves the tailor smiling at the kindness of their Champion. He watches her walk toward some other vendors, lightness in her step and a smile on her lips, and he wonders at the attractive blush that stains her cheeks. Shaking his head with a smile, he muses that it must be a man. On the other hand, it could be a woman, he supposes.

Fenris

He rolls over to kiss her and finds the bed empty of her warmth. He thinks for a moment that it was all a very hot, elaborate dream. As he cracks his eyes open against the morning light filtering in through the windows, he groans. He hates mornings. His eyes slowly adjust and he takes in the fine trappings of her bedroom. He feels the soft satin of the sheets he is laying on, the softness of the mattress, and inhales deeply. Her scent is so much stronger in her bed. He notices her dressing table, it's surface bare. He spies several things on the floor and chuckles as he remembers how they got there. He smiles lazily as he remembers the previous night.

Sitting up, he wraps the top sheet of her bedding around his naked body. His bare feet sink into the plush rug, and he wiggles his toes against the softness. He crosses to her dresser with it's large mirror, bending to pick up the items that had fallen from its surface when he had roughly slammed her on top of it. He finds that he enjoys being in her room, surrounded by her things. He remembers the last time he saw her sitting on the little chair, staring into this very mirror. She was brushing the tangles from her silky, midnight hair and crying. He realizes he still has no idea why she was so upset that day, and determines to find out soon. His own reflection stares back at him and he turns a bit, noticing the long red scratches down his back. _"My hawk's talons are sharp"_ he muses.

There are several small bottles under the dresser, and he is thankful that they have not broken, as the blown glass bottles look expensive enough on their own. He takes the tops off each bottle, one by one. The green bottle contains a thin liquid that smells like Harlot's Blush. He cannot identify what is in the pale yellow bottle, nor what is in the dark blue bottle. He has no idea what she might use these liquids for, but he does know she always smells lightly of Harlot's Blush. Perhaps this is a perfume of sorts. Although, to Fenris, her natural scent is more than pleasant. His fingers close around the cool silver of the brush and hand mirror, noticing the intricately carved moon and stars on the back of the mirror. The round head of the brush has an equally detailed sunburst and he gently places them on the dresser. The small box is square and fits in the palm of his hand. It is silver and the lid is inlaid with small squares of onyx and tiny pearls. He opens the little box, and notices with surprise that no pieces of jewelry rest against the dark blue felt of the interior. He realizes that he has never seen her wear any adornments other than the pieces she finds while they are out on their missions. She keeps some, gives the others their pick and sells the rest. _"Perhaps I should remedy that."_ he thinks. He knows in some cultures, it is customary for a man to bequeath jeweled trinkets on the woman he favors. He crosses to her wardrobe, opening it to find it full of rich, vibrant colors and soft fabrics. He has never seen her wear any of this finery. The Arielle HE knows prefers form fitting breeches and loose tunics when she is not in her armor. She likes darker, earthy colors, not the bright colors of the peacock. _"Ever the hawk"_ he muses to himself._ "Why does she keep a wardrobe full of clothes she has obviously never worn, that are to be worn to parties she detests?"_ This curious discovery is one more question he adds to his mental list.

Across from her wardrobe is a heavy wooden desk with a large, comfortable chair. Her writing utensils and correspondence are here. There are several books here, but the one that catches his eye is small, bound in dyed blue leather. It is open and he glances at the page. A word catches his eye and although the reading lessons are going well, he curses himself for only being able to make out a few words. He recognizes it and it makes his stomach turn. "Anders". He turns from the desk, as he realizes these must be her private thoughts and he suddenly does not want to attempt to read any more. He knows she loves him, and surprisingly, does not feel the intense anger and jealousy of the past, only a mild curiosity as to why she would be writing about Anders. Part of him wishes to continue reading, but he does not want to invade her privacy. Wondering how much longer she might be gone, he feels antsy and wonders how he can pass the time.

A smile curves his lips as he remembers her promise to him the night before, and he sets off to find his clothes, and then Orana.


	12. Chapter 12

**First off, this chapter is LONG. It wasn't supposed to be, but it morphed into a massive beast. I really, REALLY hope you like it. Also, I feel I owe you all an apology for the annoying multiple chapter alerts from last chapter. Being new to this site, I had issues with uploading but it shouldn't happen again. Hatsepsut has schooled me. And if you haven't checked out her stuff, you really should. DROOL worthy indeed. A big thanks to her also, for being a constant source of inspiration & a great person to bounce my ideas off of**

**One question I have for all of you-remember the little doggie that peed on Anders? Would anyone like to give him a name? Someone close to our hearts will adopt him. Thanks again for reading. Ya'll rock!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Twelve: Breakfast And Bath-Time<strong>

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><p>Fenris<p>

His sensitive ears twitch slightly as the lock turns in the door some while later. After finding Orana in the kitchen and making his request, he has been sitting in her study, reading. Hawke has an impressive collection of books, but the one that caught his eye is a rather amusing tome that he thinks Isabela must have lent her. It is a bawdy tale of a lusty pirate wench and her conquests, on and off the ship. The plot revolves mostly around her off-ship exploits, and the tales, accompanied by incredibly graphic etchings, make Fenris wonder if the book might be Isabela's autobiography. He hears Hawke humming softly as she enters the house, and smiles as she calls out to Orana that she is home. Orana murmurs a soft greeting in return, and must have told her he is in the study, as he hears her light footsteps approach the door.

He looks up from the book as she enters the room, noting that she appears to be out of breath. Her cheeks are flushed and her smile is wide, her eyes bright. She has a burlap bag slung across her shoulder, and her black hair is tied in a high ponytail, held in place with an ivory ribbon. She crosses to him, kissing him lightly on the lips. She pulls away too soon, and crosses to the fireplace, dropping her bag on the desk on the way. She warms herself for a few moments, rubbing her hands to remove the chill. Rising quietly, he slips his arms around her and his cool lips nuzzle her neck. She turns in his arms, kissing him deeply.

"I'm so glad you stayed," she whispers into his ear. His heart twists as he realizes she still fears he will leave her, and silently vows to make the wasted time up to her, even if it takes him the rest of his life. He smiles as he thinks of exactly HOW he would like to make it up to her.

"I missed you. I woke up lonely." Her laughter rings in his ears.

"I had shopping to do."

"So early? If you had waited, I would have gone with you."

"Well, I didn't want to wake you. You looked so…cute." She giggles as he winces at the word.

"I am not _cute_. What did you buy?"

"Let me show you."

He sits back in the chair and watches her pull packages wrapped in brown butcher's paper out of the bag. She unwraps them slowly and he basks in the joy on her face. He realizes that with her entire family gone, she must not have anyone to share these small details of her life. He feels a surge of pride and happiness that this incredible woman wants to spend her life with him. She hands him the potion flask, and he traces his graceful fingers over the etched wolf. The detail is more touching than he would like to admit. She hands him a large, green leather book next, but he does not know what the title says.

"It's a book of Elven folk tales. I thought you might want a break from the History of Kirkwall. You seemed a bit uninspired during our last lesson." It is true; the book she has him reading from currently is rather dull. She pulls two more small bundles from the bag, telling him they are nothing but new socks. Then she pulls a small round parcel from the bag and holds it out to him.

"For you." She hands him the bag, a smile on her lips.

He is speechless, never having received a gift in his life. Not that he can remember, anyway. It feels good that Hawke has spent her coin in the attempt at making him happy. He opens the pouch and a small gasp of pleasure escapes his lips as he realizes it is full of blueberries. He had fallen in love with them when the Fog Warriors of Seheron had taken him in. They had grown wild on a bush close to their camp and the females had picked large bushels of them. He had mentioned the blueberries in passing, months before, while Varric and he had been discussing favorite foods. He hadn't thought she'd even heard him.

"I do not know what to say. A simple thank you seems insufficient." She laughs and tells him that his smile is enough.

"Maybe I'll even make you blueberry pancakes. Or perhaps some tarts."

Hawke/Fenris:

Had she known how Fenris would react, she would have bought him blueberries months ago. He looks like a small child who has just received a sweet, and she finds him utterly endearing. He already holds her heart but at the incredibly sweet, hopeful look he gives her when she mentions the food, it is lost even more completely. She desperately wants to ruffle his hair but settles for a kiss instead.

"Come on, let's go make something with these blueberries."

She twines her fingers in his, and he trails after her toward the kitchen. She pushes the heavy wooden door open and they are greeted with the tantalizing scents of frying bacon and sizzling eggs. Orana is stirring something in a large bowl.

"I asked Orana to make the pancake batter when I came home, as I had a feeling you'd want them." She explains as Fenris stares at the feast being prepared. He licks his lips and his stomach growls noisily. Hawke hands over the blueberries and Orana drops two heaping handfuls into the batter.

The pancakes are soon golden brown, and Orana serves them at the kitchen table, as Arielle prefers the coziness of the kitchen over the formal dining room. Orana joins them, eating her breakfast daintily. Arielle tells Fenris to help himself and suffers a pang of sadness as she watches the man she loves gorging himself on the food. She is reminded that he probably has never had such an abundance or variety of food before. Obviously, as a slave, he never would have been able to eat food like this. And life on the run wouldn't have been conducive to indulging in things like this.

She reaches across the table to brush a stray lock of hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear. He glances up as he's shoveling bites of his fourth pancake in his already full mouth. His eyes have a disappointed glint in them as he notices there is only one more pancake on the platter.

"Orana, would you mind making us some more?" Hawke asks the girl, who rises immediately to cook up another batch of food.

Fenris swallows hard and licks his fingers. "I am sorry for my…table manners. You've barely eaten anything, as I have hogged the food."

She shakes her head sadly. "Fenris, you have nothing to be sorry for. Eat your fill. More can always be made. Although, you might want to slow down so you don't choke." She teases gently.

His smile warms her heart and he bites into a crispy piece of bacon while they wait for more pancakes.

Orana returns moments later, the patter in her hands stacked high with pancakes, more bacon and eggs to the side.

"Orana, how was your date last night?" Arielle asks the girl before placing a forkful of scrambled eggs in her mouth.

Orana blushes and smiles shyly. "Oh, mistress, it was lovely. He is so handsome! He complimented my dress and my hair. Thank you again, for buying me the dress and for fixing my hair. He said I looked very pretty. I've never felt pretty before."

"Orana, I was happy to do it. You deserve all the happiness you can find in this world." She spares a glance at Fenris, but he has his eyes closed as he savors the taste of freshly squeezed orange juice. He has taken her advice and slowed his frenzied eating and he seems to be enjoying his food even more now.

"Aerandir had flowers for me, too! He brought me flowers! He was such a gentleman, pulling my chair out for me and after we had a couple of drinks, he ordered us some dinner. They have a surprisingly delicious lamb stew at the Hanged Man. There was a bard there and Aerandir asked me to dance. Oh, mistress, it felt so lovely to be in his arms. He smelled so good and I felt so safe. He even escorted me home. The walk was lovely. He asked if I would like to see him again."

Arielle smiles as she looks at Orana. The girl is fairly glowing with excitement, the joy bubbling from her lips like pink champagne.

"Did he kiss you?"

"He kissed my cheek." She admits shyly.

"Orana, I am overjoyed to hear that your date went so well. Now, I think you should leave the dishes, and go change. I'm giving you the day off, and I think you should go see your young man."

"Mistress? Are you sure? But, the dishes…"

"Fenris and I are completely capable of handling the dishes. Go on, have fun."

Orana fairly squeals with happiness as she jumps up, running to her room to change her clothes. Arielle waits until she hears the front door close quietly behind Orana.

"Fenris?" she says quietly. He looks up from his plate, still chewing his last piece of bacon. "Did you get enough to eat, love?" He nods, and she sighs. "Good, because I just gave Orana the day off and there's no more food. Now, we need to do the dishes."

"You said there would be tarts."

"You can't possibly still be hungry! Fenris, you'll get sick if you eat any more."

"We'll be hungry later."

She absolutely cannot refuse such a simple request, knowing that blueberry tarts are yet another thing he has probably never eaten.

"Fine, but you're helping me do the dishes first." He practically mauls her in his haste to get to the table.

They clear the table in silence, and settle into a routine of her washing, him rinsing and drying. As soon as the dishes are washed and the kitchen cleaned, she pulls out her book of recipes. She directs Fenris to bring her various ingredients, and begins mixing the batter for the tart shells. She pulls a heavy, cast iron tart pan from a cupboard, and pours the batter into the molds. She feels Fenris' eyes on her as he perches on a stool in the corner.

"You forgot the blueberries, Hawke."

"No, I didn't. I have to bake the shells first, then the blueberries go inside with the custard filling. Has anyone ever told you that you are the opposite of patient?"

"Yes."

She sighs, rolling her eyes, as she starts mixing the creamy filling. She holds the bag of blueberries up and overly dramatically pours a generous amount in. "Our children will definitely have to be more patient than you," she mutters under her breath.

A gasp escapes her lips as his seductive voice purrs in her ear "As long as they have your smile." Maker, but she forgot how good his hearing is.

"I hate it when you sneak up on me, you know". He chuckles, obviously unconcerned.

He looks over her shoulder, dipping his finger in the bowl as he does so. She swats at his hand and turns just in time to see him pull his finger from his mouth. Her knees nearly give out and she swallows over the sudden lump in her throat.

"It's good, Hawke. You really should try it." He dips that same finger in the bowl and holds it up to her lips. She licks the thick, sweet filling from his finger, watching smugly as that simple act makes Fenris close his eyes in a mixture of pleasure and lust.

The smell of the baking tart shells brings them out of their daze, and she clears her throat as she notices the hardening bulge in Fenris' tight pants. She bends over, pulling the tarts from the oven, and as she does so, she feels his hand lightly stroking her ass. She straightens, setting the hot pan on the sideboard to cool. Fenris is still behind her, rubbing her ass more forcefully. She leans back, letting his arms circle her waist, her body melting against his. His lips brush her neck, and she raises her arms, running her fingers through his hair as she tilts her head to the side to give him more access. She feels his hands work their way around to the front of her pants. The top is untied within seconds, and he practically rips her pants from her body in his excitement to feel her creamy flesh. His fingers are soon parting her folds, stroking and teasing her clit. She is wet within seconds, sending a thrill of male pride through him. Her hands pull at his hair, demanding, and he bites her neck, leaving teeth marks. Her groans of pleasure make his already hard cock ache inside his pants. He bends her forward, and she grasps the edge of the counter, pulling her body slightly forward so that she is resting her torso on the counter. Her perfect ass is staring him in the face.

His breeches are untied and around his ankles in seconds, and he slams himself inside of her pussy before she has time to breathe. His thrusts are hard and unrelenting, a far different cry from their lovemaking in the past. His fingers grip her hips almost too painfully, and there will be bruises later. He briefly wonders if he is being too rough with her, but her screams of "Don't stop" and other incoherent words push him forward. With each powerful thrust, Fenris pushes further and further inside of her, until he is buried deep, surrounded by her walls. That she can take all of him amazes him, but is further proof in his mind that she was made for him. She shudders and he feels her close around him as her orgasm hits. He gives one last thrust before coming and he collapses against her back. They lie together, bent over the counter for a few moments, panting and trying to force air back inside their lungs. He withdraws and when she turns, she has a wicked grin on her face.

She has a sudden need to dominate her warrior, and she places her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to his knees. She pushes him further, making him lie on his back on the smooth marble floor. She straddles him, and his hands reach beneath her shirt to cup her breasts. With only a few teasing pulls from her hand, Fenris is hard again and she guides him inside of her. She rides him hard and fast, her head thrown back, eyes closed, pushing them both toward their second orgasm. She is in no mood to wait this morning, and both their orgasms hit at the same time. He explodes inside of her, and both desperately hope that their relentless lovemaking will result in a child.

She collapses on top of him, his hands running lightly up and down her back. He kisses her, smiling.

"How many rooms are in this house, Hawke?"

She mentally runs through the rooms one by one, and says "Enough that I think I may have to give my servants an extended vacation."

He laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that reverberates through her body as he holds her. "Maybe you should do that. Soon. About those tarts..."

"Seriously? You're thinking of food right now?"

"A man has to eat. I told you we'd be hungry later."

She pokes him in the ribs, climbing off him and grabbing her pants, slinging them over her shoulder. She walks over to the forgotten tarts, pours the filling in the shells and places two blueberries on top of each tart, along with a sprig of mint. "The filling needs to set and then you may have one later, if you're a good boy."

"I'm always a good boy, Hawke. I even asked Orana this morning to heat water for our bath." Arielle had noticed the large kettles of water heating over the fire earlier, but she had dismissed them, thinking perhaps Orana was making soup for dinner.

"Then I guess we'd better have that bath. You are getting a bit ripe, Fenris." She brushes past him, her shirt barely covering her shapely bottom.

He growls and slaps her ass as she walks by him.

"You bring the water, I'll get ready."

"What do you need to get ready? It's us, naked, in some hot water in a wooden tub."

She sighs "Just bring the water."

Fenris hauls one heavy bucket after another full of steaming water, wondering what in Thedas she's doing. It takes him a good bit of time to fill the bathtub, and she has timed it so that Fenris does not catch her as she makes her trips to get what she needs. It had been difficult snatching the two tarts while he wasn't looking, but she managed, and that's why she's one of the best rogues in Kirkwall.

As Fenris brings the last bucket upstairs, he stops in the doorway. The bedroom is aglow with the soft light of a few candles scattered throughout the room. A small table next to the bathtub holds an opened bottle of red wine, although he does not recognize the label. He surmises that it must be from her cellar. Two silver goblets are next to the wine, along with a small dish holding two tarts. And Hawke, his beautiful Hawke, is already in the bathtub. Her hair is down, the edges trailing in the water. Her breasts are pressed against the edge of the tub, and he can just see her backside peeking at him as she kneels in the water, smiling beguilingly at him. He lugs the last bucket, trying not to spill any of the water in his efforts to get to her as quickly as possible. As soon as the last drop of water is poured, he is out of his clothes and in the water in mere seconds. He lowers his body into the steaming water, and Hawke lets her eyes drink in the sight of his long, lean, muscular body. He is absolutely perfect and he is all hers.

The bathbub is not large, just barely accommodating both of their bodies. She wraps her legs around his waist, sitting in his lap. He brushes her hair from her face, letting his lips gently trace their way along her ear, softly kissing her cheek, her nose, her chin. She closes her eyes and he kisses her eyelids, loving the way they flutter gently under his kisses. They are content to simply be in each other's arms, kissing and touching gently. She sees him eyeing the tarts like a dog eyeing a steak and picks up one small, perfectly formed pastry. The tart is about the size of her palm, it's crust flaky with little scalloped edges. The golden custard filling is full to bursting with sweet blueberries. She feeds it to him, watching as he experiences the flavors of the pastry for the first time. The plump berries burst in his mouth, running in a thin, blue line down his chin. She licks the juice from his skin, her tongue catching the line of lyrium on his chin, making him shudder. He looks so sweet eating the tart, that she cannot resist feeding him the second one. There is a whole tray of tarts downstairs, and she can make more whenever she wants. She does treat herself to the crumbs and small bit of filling on his bottom lip however.

"Mmmm, Hawke. That was…better than I could have imagined. Thank you."

"It was my pleasure, really." She takes a long drink from her wine, surprised when Fenris kisses her, drawing the wine from her mouth to his. She loses herself in the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her naked body even closer to his. She weaves her fingers through his damp hair, letting the goblet fall from her hand. It clatters noisily as it bounces off the edge of the tub, falling to the floor. The kiss is unhurried and they take their time, exploring each other's mouths. Fenris moves his lips to her neck, catching the spot they both know makes her giggle. He nibbles on it on purpose, wanting to hear her laugh. She pushes against him playfully as he continues to assault the tender spot. She is rewarded with a deep, rumbling laugh from Fenris. She is absolutely delighted with Fenris's hidden sense of humor.

She lathers his muscular chest with soap, tracing circles and hearts with her finger. After she has rinsed him off, he runs a soapy wash cloth from the tips of her pretty little toes to the back of her knee, raising her incredibly long, shapely leg high in the air. Her toes curl and she moans as his lips follow the same path his hands just did, her body arching back and her eyes closing in pleasure, until he reaches the back of her knee and she starts to giggle and twist, making the water in the tub slosh and splash. He repeats the action for her other leg, and adores the fact that she is just as ticklish behind her other knee.

"Is there ANY spot you're not ticklish, Hawke?" he teases.

"I don't know. Maybe you should continue searching."

She squeals as he does just that.

They hold each other, talking and laughing, until the water grows lukewarm and Arielle is beginning to shiver. Fenris steps out first, giving her ample view of his ass, which looks as if it's been sculpted from marble. Fenris wraps one of her towels around his body, holding his hand to help Arielle as she gets out of the tub. He holds the ends of the towel out from his body and wraps it around her, drawing her close to his body.

He dries them both, and Arielle crosses to her dresser, pulling her night clothes from a drawer. She looks at the soft cotton, ankle length pants and long sleeved shirt. The light gray color and modesty makes her wish she owns something sexier and less drab.

"I know they're not very sexy, but they're comfortable," she says, a bit shyly.

"It is not the clothes that make the woman sexy, Hawke. Now come, I am tired and I want to hold you before I sleep."

She dresses quickly, slipping beneath the cool sheets next to a very naked Fenris. He puts his arm around her shoulder, and she nestles her head against his chest, comforted by the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

As she is drifting to sleep, she murmurs "Why do you take such care of me, Fenris?"

"Because you are mine."

They drift to sleep, each content in the knowledge of the other's love.


	13. Chapter 13

**Many, many thanks to you, my dear readers. Thank you again for taking the time from your busy lives to read my little story, and to leave me such sweet love! Hatsepsut was invaluable with this chapter, providing support & ideas for the party scene. I don't "love" writing banter, so forgive me if it sucks balls. I have scaled back the smut a bit, please don't be too disappointed. It will return, I promise.**

**Now, for a bit of history about the toothbrush & toothpaste: Tooth brushing tools date back to 3500-3000 BC when the Babylonians and the Egyptians made a brush by fraying the end of a twig. Around 1600 BC, the Chinese developed "chewing sticks" which were made from aromatic tree twigs to freshen breath. The Chinese are believed to have invented the first natural bristle toothbrush made from the bristles from pigs' necks in the 15th century, with the bristles attached to a bone or bamboo handle. When it was brought from China to Europe, this design was adapted and often used softer horsehairs which many Europeans preferred. Other designs in Europe used feathers.**

**I have found a website citing three recipes for toothpaste, dating back to the early to middle First Century.**

**Recipe #1: Sprinkle a pint of barley flour with vinegar that has been mixed with honey, knead it for a while, and divide it into six lumps. When these have been separated, mix in half an ounce of rock salt, then cook in the oven until they turn to charcoal. Then you should grind up these lumps and mix in enough spikenard to give them an odor.**

**Recipe #2: Ingredients include sun-dried radish rind and finely ground glass.**

**Recipe #3: One pint of deer antlers burned in a new pot and reduced to ashes, an ounce of Chian mastic, and an ounce and a half of sal ammoniac. Chian mastic is an aromatic gum. Sal ammoniac is a particular kind of rock salt.**

**That being said, I am going to let you guess which of the recipes Denarius allowed his slaves to use for toothpaste, and will take some liberties with the toothpaste Hawke uses. I am also taking liberties with her house & have added a washroom w/ extra chamber pot for guests.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen: Slumber Party<strong>

* * *

><p>Hawke<p>

She wakes sometime in the night, moonlight streaming through the window. The pale light casts a silver glow on Fenris' white hair. She cannot resist feeling her skin against his, and pulls her top off, shimmying out of her pants. She fits her body back against his, relishing the way his skin is naturally smooth and cool to the touch. He really is like hard marble. Placing a tender kiss on his shoulder, she drifts back to sleep, not knowing that Fenris had woken when she stirred, and that he smiles in the dark knowing she wants to feel his touch even in her sleep.

* * *

><p>Fenris<p>

Morning arrives and finds Hawke's body draped over his. A leg is slung over his thigh, the other between his legs. One of her arms is around his neck, the other bent at a weird angle beneath her body. Her naked front presses against his back perfectly. Even her hair covers him, tousled tendrils tickling his nose. He smiles that even in sleep, she claims ownership, and he could not be happier. Her face is peaceful, although her lips have formed a small pout in her sleep and he wonders what she is dreaming of.

As much as he does not want to move her, he does need to use her chamber pot, and he picks up her limbs, heavy with sleep, and slips from beneath her grasp. He covers her with a blanket before he goes, so that she will not become too chilled. She grumbles in her sleep about being disturbed, making Fenris smile_. "I wonder if she would mind being disturbed another way"_, he thinks. He does not feel comfortable using the chamber pot next to her bed as she is sleeping, and decides to make his way to the washroom down the hall. He had discovered Hawke's toothbrush the other day and has been using it, as he does not have his own at her house. _"I wonder what she would think if I brought some things here. Just my own toothbrush and a change of clothes…"_ he muses as he cleans his teeth. As a slave, he had been allowed to brush his teeth, as Denarius had wanted his slaves to be clean, but there was often only one brush per ten slaves, and the paste they had to use was barbaric. Fenris had been lucky to have his own, because he was in such close proximity to Denarius all the time. Hawke's toothbrush is the same type he had used while a slave, but the paste she has tastes pleasantly of berries.

She is still sleeping when Fenris returns, although she now lies on her stomach in the middle of the bed. Fenris notices that for such a small woman, she manages to hog the bed quite well. He slips back into bed, admiring her sleeping form. Her back beckons his lips and he places a tender kiss on the back of her neck. She sighs softly in her sleep, and Fenris licks the soft skin between her ear and neck. She shivers and he kisses her shoulder, making his way down her spine until he reaches her buttocks. He kisses each cheek, nibbling gently. He nudges her legs apart, and slips a finger inside of her. She moans quietly, and he slowly removes his finger, only to insert it again, rubbing in circles as he does so. Her moans get louder, and he can tell that she is still asleep. He rolls her to her side, caressing her stomach gently and catching her earlobe in his teeth. He hears her gasp in her sleep, and decides it is time to wake her up.

"Mmmm….Varric" comes the breathy, muffled voice from the pillow.

He sucks in his breath. _"What the…"_ and the bed shakes with the giggles falling from her lips.

"You will pay for that Hawke" he grumbles, and flips her to her back. Her hair is a tangled mess around her face and her face retains the flush of sleep. However, her smile is wide and her eyes, though still sleepy, entice him as her arms embrace him and her legs wrap tightly around his waist. He makes love to her slowly, sheathing himself deeply inside of her, savoring her early morning wetness.

He makes her pay. Four times.

* * *

><p>Hawke<p>

By mid-morning, they have finally come up for air, and their stomachs are growling angrily. They dress and make their way downstairs. Bodahn and Sandal have returned from their camping trip, and the boy runs to hug her. She loves Sandal and his childlike wonder. She sometimes wishes she could view the world through his eyes.

"Ah, messere Hawk! And Master Fenris! Good to see you both!" Bodahn greets them warmly, his broad smile nearly cracking his leathery face.

"Bodahn! I've missed you! How was the camping trip?"

"Oh, it was wonderful, messere. Sandal just loved catching the fish for dinner."

"SHINY!"

"Yes, they were quite shiny, weren't they my boy?" he turns to smile affectionately at his son, who is tearing through the house as if discovering it for the first time.

Arielle spends the next few minutes catching up with Bodahn, listening as he talks about teaching Sandal the constellations and taking the boy on nature walks. She truly loves this dwarf and his son, and has missed them terribly. When she turns around, she finds Fenris has left.

"Ah, I believe Master Fenris made his way to the kitchen a few moments ago" Bodahn tells her.

Arielle walks to the kitchen, where she finds a glowing Orana sitting next to Fenris, each enjoying a bowl of steaming porridge. Orana rises to serve, but Arielle stays her with a raised hand, serving herself. Bodahn and Sandal traipse into the kitchen moments later, and she surveys her little house family with a smile. Orana wears the sweet, faraway look of new love, and it is obvious who is on her mind today. Bodahn helps Sandal with his porridge, reminding the boy to blow on the hot food before taking a bite. The obvious love he has for the boy, made even more poignant by the fact that Sandal is not of Bodahn's blood makes Arielle's heart swell with love and respect for the man. He reminds her of her own father, with his gentle unwavering love and steady guidance.

Then she turns her gaze to her sweet Fenris. He is so proud and fierce, with such a hard shell. Once that shell was cracked, he has shown himself to possess a tender heart and playful nature, with a surprisingly funny sense of humor. Arielle loves that Fenris makes her laugh.

As she stirs honey into her porridge, she smiles as she sees that there is a large amount of blueberries in Fenris' bowl.

The atmosphere around the table is comfortable and content. Arielle wishes she could stop time and savor this moment.

Orana reminds her so much of Bethany, with her sweet smile and shy nature. She sadly wonders what Bethany's suitors would have been like, had she lived. Fenris is quiet as they eat, and the only reaction he has during the meal is a raised black eyebrow when Arielle tells Orana she would like to invite her "young man" to dinner in a few days.

Orana blushes prettily, telling her she would be honored for him to meet her.

The three servants excuse themselves after eating their fill, taking their bowls to the sink. Orana excuses herself to give Arielle and Fenris some privacy, and Arielle begins mentally planning the dinner menu with Orana and her suitor. Fenris clearing his throat interrupts her thoughts.

"Hawke?"

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if you and I might take a night off."

"Oh? Had your fill of me already?"

"Not in this lifetime or the next. However, I was thinking of playing Diamond Back with Donnic and Varric at my house, and I was thinking you could invite Aveline and Isabela over. Perhaps you could even invite the blood mage."

"And when were you thinking of doing this?"

"Tomorrow night?"

"Fenris, did you just suggest I have a girl's night?"

"If you will be having the "girls" over at night, then that is a fitting term."

"Well, I suppose it might be a good idea to let them know we're still alive in here. That might be fun, actually. I can tell them all about your….assets. And I won't even have to embellish." She laughs at the look of absolute male pride that washes over his face. Fenris is definitely a man who knows how to please a woman and is very proud of his talents. She rises to clear the table, still chuckling over Fenris' reaction to her teasing about telling the girls about his prowess in bed.

As she walks past him to take his empty bowl, he grabs her wrist, pulling her to his lap. He nuzzles her neck, sighing softly. "Hawke?"

"Yes?"

"I will miss you tomorrow night. We must make up for the time we will lose."

"Oh, we must, must we? Well…" she pretends to think it over. "I suppose we don't want you missing me too much."

Her servants smile to themselves as they hear her laughter ring through the house, and Orana catches sight of Fenris rushing up the stairs with Arielle in his arms.

* * *

><p>FenrisHawke

The sunlight streaming through the windows of the Amell estate begins to pale and dapple as evening sets in.

He is working on his letters by the fireplace in the study as she scribbles in her journal across the room. Needing a break, he lays the pen on the paper where he has painstakingly been copying his name repeatedly. He rubs his writing hand where a cramp has formed. "Anything of me in there?" he asks casually. She looks up surprised.

"Fishing for compliments?" she teases.

"Well. No. I did not mean to intrude, but your journal was open and I read something the other day. I…I would have you tell me the truth, even if you think it would pain me to hear."

She worries, wondering what in Thedas he could have read, and she tries to remember everything she has written that might be upsetting to him.

"I read Anders' name. I did not wish to read any more," he grumbles quietly, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Anders? I don't remember….oh." She bites her lip to hide her smile, as she does not want him to think she is laughing at him. In truth, his little show of jealousy and uncertainty is endearing. Fenris has bared his heart and shown his vulnerability more to her these past few days than he has in the entire time she has known him. She turns the pages of her journal back a few days and rises, talking as she walks. "It's nothing, really. I had been writing the day that you…interrupted me. Had you continued a bit further, you would have seen what I wrote about you." She knows the slow pace he has to endure as he struggles with the written words bothers him, and she sits on his lap, his arms wrapping around her waist. He rests his chin on her shoulder as she begins reading.

"Anders was at the Hanged Man today" she begins. She feels him tense at the name and brings his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to his fingertips. "We have been talking, and I know that what he feels is more than a simple crush. That night was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. It is not his lips I want pressing against mine. It is not his voice in my ear that I desire to hear. It is not his touch I crave. I lie awake at night, seeing Fenris' face. It has haunted me, tormented me for so long. I loathe hurting Anders, as he has enough pain in his life. I wish I could be happy with him, forget how I am in love with Fenris. How I will always be in love with him. It has always been Fenris, will always be him. He holds my heart, forever…," she cannot continue as he has taken the book from her hands. He cannot believe the words she speaks, but as he looks at the page, he sees his name scrawled repeatedly on the pages.

He drops the book to the floor, pressing his face into her neck. "I have been such a fool, for so long. Please forgive me. Please let me spend the rest of my life making you happy."

"I rather like the sound of that" she whispers as he steals a kiss, lowering her to the rug before the softly crackling fire. He unbuttons her dress, letting the material fall away as she peels his clothing from his body. They admire and savor each other in the quiet room. Her skin warms with the flames of the fire and the heat he builds within her. The cool, smooth skin of her elven lover glides along her blushing body, and his fingers and lips bring her to the brink of paradise, before he plunges inside of her, whispering promises of love everlasting.

* * *

><p>Hawke<p>

The study has been turned into a makeshift bedroom for the night. Thick blankets and plush pillows in various sizes, shapes and colors litter the floor. A fire roars cheerfully in the hearth, and all three women have gladly joined Arielle in her home for some female bonding. Orana and Arielle had spent the entire morning making various meat and cheese pies, small cookies, and berry tarts.

Isabela sits on the floor, a steaming mug of spiced cocoa beside her. The exotic woman is devoid of her usual garish makeup, and her thick hair is tied in a high ponytail. She is wearing a pair of tight black leggings, with a top that plunges deeply in the front, showing ample breasts that are not banded this evening. The shirt is silk, hugging her curves sensuously, ending at her hips. One leg is bent in front of her, and she carefully runs a brush over her toes, coating them in a second layer of bright red paint.

Arielle nibbles a butter cookie, sipping her cocoa and smiling as the warmth of the liquid chocolate warms her belly. "Really, Isa? _That _is what you normally wear to bed?"

"Of course not, Hawke. I normally sleep nude."

Arielle shakes her head at her friend, smiling at Aveline as she enters the room, carrying a crystal decanter. "I couldn't find the whiskey in the cellar, so I brought brandy instead." The guardswoman, in typical Aveline fashion, is wearing an ankle length nightgown of heavy white cotton. The nightgown is plain, save for a scalloped neckline of white lace threaded through with a small blue ribbon tied into a bow. Her long red hair is loose for once, falling about her shoulders.

"Brandy, whisky, it's all the same, Man Hands. Nice nighty, by the way. _Very_ sexy. " Isabela purrs as she takes a large swig of her cocoa. "The whole point is to get you drunk anyway. I want to hear about Donnic's spear. I hear it's quite long and…pointy."

"Donnic finds it very sexy. He is the one who bought it for me. And I am not telling you anything about his…spear."

"Oh, lighten up! It's a slumber party. We're supposed to trade tales of sex. " She blows softly on her toes and glances at Merrill, winking. "What about you, Kitten? Any strapping young elven lads string your bow up there in the mountains?"

Merrill blushes and Arielle isn't sure the girl could get any redder if she dipped her in a vat of paint. Merrill takes a small sip of her cocoa, giggling as Isabela draws her foot towards her and begins painting her toes. "I can't talk about that. About sex."

Isabela rolls her eyes, grabbing the bottle of brandy and pouring a generous shot into Merrill's cup. "Of _course_ you can, Kitten. You're amongst friends. We won't tell your dirty secrets."

"Oh, no. I've already had too much to drink already." Merrill frowns as the delightful drink becomes too strong.

"Have another meat pie, Kitten. It'll soak up the booze."

Arielle hands Merrill her fourth pie, smiling as the girl happily bites into the flaky crust with relish. Her large, luminous eyes fill with embarrassment, and she suddenly finds her pale pink pajama pants very interesting.

"No, I mean, I really can't. I don't have any tales to tell."

Isabela gasps. "You're a _**virgin**_, Kitten? How utterly _delicious._ I have a friend at the Blooming Rose who is very…gentle"

"No, thank you. I do not like the way that place smells. It smells…dirty." Merrill wrinkles her nose in distaste as she raises her dainty little foot, staring at her toenails. "Oh, so pretty!" she exclaims as she stretches her other foot toward Isabela.

"That's the fun of it Kitten. If it is not dirty, you are not doing it right. Take Man Hands here. I bet her and Donnic get dirty every night, don't you Man Hands? Does Donnic plow your field with gusto or do you prefer to saddle him up and ride that pony?"

"I am _not_ discussing this with you."

"Come _on_, have some fun. You are such a stick in the mud. Donnic bends you over that desk in your office and harpoons your whale every night, doesn't he? _Doesn't_ he, Mrs. Hendyr?"

Aveline turns away with a disgusted snort, but everyone in the room hears her quiet "Yes."

The women burst out laughing at Aveline, who is turning as red as her hair.

"Speaking of being bent over and plowed what about _you_ Isa?" Arielle asks.

"What about me?" Isabela feigns ignorance.

"What happened with that sailor you were rattling the windows of the Hanged Man with?"

Isabela drains her mug, instructing Merrill to sit still and blow on her toes every few seconds. "I don't know what to make of him. He's just too perfect. He's incredibly kinky, which of _course_ is a must."

"Of _course_" Aveline says sarcastically.

Isabela glares at her and tosses a pillow at her head, which Aveline ducks expertly.

"His body is to die for, and he's got an enormous cock. Sometimes I can barely fit him all in. I usually have to lift my leg over my head to get a bit more stretch going. And don't even get me started on how many bottles of lube I've had to purchase in the past few days. I don't think I've ever met a man who loved plowing my ass so much…"

Merrill's mouth drops open and Arielle can barely contain her laughter at the poor elven girl's obvious embarrassment. She is redder than her nails.

"What about his personality?" Arielle asks, trying to take pity on Merrill.

"Oh yes! Is he nice? He should be nice, I think." Merrill says sweetly, taking a long drink from her mug.

"His what? Oh…yes. His personality. He's sweet but manly. He makes me _laugh_ and when he shipped out yesterday, I actually found myself _missing_ him. What the bloody hell is _wrong_ with me?"

Arielle laughs. "Did you ever find out his name?"

"It's…." she hesitates. "It's _Archibald_. I've tried to call him Archie, but he won't let me."

Merrill, her mouth full of cocoa, chokes as Isabela says the name with a shudder. She coughs and sputters as the brandy hits her throat, making it burn. "What kind of a _Shem_ name is _Archibald_!" she bends forward, holding her arm across her stomach as the laughter makes her muscles cramp. Large tears stream down her face as she continues laughing while Isabela scowls at her.

"Stop it. Archibald is a perfectly sexy name."

Aveline and Arielle collapse in a heap of giggles as Isabela protests how sexy her man's name is. "Ooooo, _Archibald!_ Take me, Archibald! Oh, stick it in further, Archibald! Spank me Archibald!" The women cackle, their breath hitching with laughter.

"If you don't stop making fun of Archibald, I am leaving!"

"Oh, oh, my stomach." Arielle wipes the tears from her face as she sits up. "Oh, stop Isa. We're just having some fun. It's not every day everyone's favorite...um….woman…falls in love."

"Love? What are you talking about Hawke?"

Aveline stares at her. "Isabela, surely you're not that daft. You obviously love the man."

Isabela thinks for a moment. "Hmmm. I suppose you might be right, Man Hands. Now, since we're on the topic of love, what about you, Hawke? We haven't seen you in _days._"

"Ohhh, yes! Tell us about Fenris, please!" Merrill croons, as if asking for a second piece of candy.

Arielle grins. "Ah, what can I say? We have been…making up for lost time. Let me tell you, the man is…oh, so very talented."

"How did it happen, Hawke? Was he very romantic? Did he burst in here and sweep you off your feet, proclaiming his undying love for you?" Merrill's smile is dreamy and Arielle wonders which of Varric's books she's been reading.

"He actually _did_ burst in here, or rather, he stormed, in. And he swept me off my feet, right onto the vanity in my bedroom." The women giggle like schoolgirls as Arielle tells them the romantic and passionate tale of the past few days.

Merrill clutches a hand to her chest and falls backward into a pile of pillows. "Oh, Hawke. That's so lovely."

"Yes, well, I was afraid after the whole Anders thing, he wouldn't…"

"Whoa, whoa, wait just a minute. What do you mean, 'the whole Anders thing'?" Isabela interrupts her.

"_Stupid, stupid, stupid big mouth!"_ she curses herself. "Um…well…Anders and I…had sex…."

Three mouths drop in unison and three voices demand details, from the beginning. Arielle tells them the entire story.

When she has finished, three stunned faces stare back at her. Rage is building on Aveline's face, Merrill looks confused, and Isabela has tears welling in her eyes.

"Um…Isabela? Are you alright?" Arielle has never seen her friend cry.

"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry. If I hadn't been such a horny, selfish bitch, this never would have happened." Arielle is shocked when Isabela leans over to envelope her in a tight hug.

"What's going on?" Arielle pats Isabela's back as she looks at the other two.

"Do you want me to arrest him?" Aveline asks.

"Arrest him? For what? Being a stupid twat?"

Isabela and Aveline look at each other, then back to Arielle. "Oh, honey. Anders _raped _you, don't you see?" Isabela tells her gently.

"No, I don't believe that. Anders is a good man. He can be stupid sometimes, and I may not like him, but he is not a terrible person. He would never hurt Hawke. He cares about her." Merrill chimes in.

"Oh, so he was _stupid,_ so that's ok? Caring for someone doesn't mean shit, Kitten. That bastard took advantage of Hawke, and he deserves to have his balls cut off and his dick shoved down his throat."

"No he didn't. I never said no."

"Oh, you poor naïve thing. It doesn't matter. You weren't in your right mind and he was. Don't you see?"

"Well, I…." Arielle's words die on her lips as they hear a crash from the front of the house. They scramble up, running out the door. Bodahn is standing in the great hall, staring toward the front door. "Bodhan, what was that noise?"

"I'm so sorry, mistress. Master Fenris came to see you, but he rushed right out, glowing a very strange blue."

The women stare at each other for mere seconds while the realization dawns on them.

"Anders. He's going to kill Anders!" Arielle shouts as they rush to find their shoes and weapons.

"I can't go out in this!" Aveline motions to her nightgown as Hawke tugs her boots on, not bothering to lace them as she grabs her daggers from a table.

"There's no time, Aveline! Bodahn, get me that cloak!" Arielle yells to the dwarf as he rushes toward her with the garment in his arms. She tosses it at Aveline, and the women hurry to the front door.

"Wait! Hawke, your cellar, that will be faster!" Isabela shouts, making Arielle incredibly glad the woman has such a clear head on her shoulders. She hadn't even thought of the cellar, which will put them directly in front of Anders' clinic, and save them precious moments. Moments which might just be enough to save the healer's life.

"Do you think he heard everything?" Aveline exchanges a look with Isabela, who solemnly nods her head. "What do you think he will do?"

Isabela purposefully keeps her voice low so Hawke, who is rushing hurriedly through the dark tunnels in front of them, will not hear.

"Let's just say this slumber party is about to turn into a slaughter party."

As they approach the clinic, running as fast as they can, they see an eerie blue light illuminating the streets through the cracks in the walls.

"The show is on, girls," Isabela drawls, before they burst through the door, weapons drawn.


	14. Chapter 14

**Dedicated to everyone who has been waiting oh so patiently (and those who have waited not so patiently :) ) for some ass kicking. I wanted to make it awesome, and I hope I have.**

**This story is FAR from finished, but my husband is having surgery next week & I don't know when I'll have the time & energy to update. I'll try my best, though.**

**And I've only got a couple of names submitted for the doggie who peed on Anders. Still time to submit suggestions!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen: The Beating<strong>

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><p>Fenris<p>

It had been difficult leaving Hawke this morning. His declaration that they should spend the evening apart had turned into an entire day away from her, as she and Orana had needed to bake for the party. Why she had to make so much food, he had no clue. Could four women really eat _that_ much? They had woken early, and spent the few hours before dawn broke lazily snuggling and holding each other. Fenris found he was loathe to leave her. He tried suggesting they call the night's activities off, but she had laughed and told him that she'd already sent out the invitations and it would be rude to cancel. When he grumbled about his "lousy idea", she had simply smiled, climbed on top of him, and quickly made his mind turn to other thoughts. It was while he was sheathed deeply within her that his thoughts had turned to marriage. She was a vision to behold as she straddled his hips, her head thrown back, eyes closed in pleasure. Her long black hair curled slightly at the ends and brushed over her nipples, hiding them from his view. This woman must always belong to him.

Once they were both spent, she had lain across his chest, kissing his shoulder. Lazily stroking his fingers up and down her back, he had briefly wondered if he had told her he loved her yet. Surely, she had to know…but as he was fumbling in his mind with the words, the exact right words, a timid knock had sounded on Hawke's door.

Orana, looking scared, had poked her head in the room at Hawke's invitation. "I'm sorry mistress, but you asked me to fetch you at 10. No matter what" she added softly.

"Thank you Orana, I'll be down in a bit" Hawke had said, and climbed off him. Instantly his body felt like it was missing it's other half. She dressed quickly, and he watched her bustle about the room, appreciating the way she walked, the gentle sway of her hips. His mouth began to water as he remembered the way she tasted and the feel of her lips against his skin. His skin seemed to burn in the places she had kissed it. He found himself growing hard as he watched her bend over to find her socks. She turned back and saw him, lying on the bed, her sheet covering his bottom half. His obvious desire for her was tenting the sheet, and she had grinned wickedly.

Crawling back onto the bed, she'd kissed him deeply, grasping his hardened cock in her hand. At his sharp intake of breath and low moan, she had smiled against his lips. Pushing him down on his back, she squeezed hard, fondling his balls with her other hand. Working her magic, she had brought him to a quick release. As the hot cum sprayed and dribbled onto her hand, she had licked herself clean, while he watched her with hungry eyes.

"Be a good boy tonight, Fenris. And maybe you'll get a reward."

It is these thoughts that distract him as he stares darkly at his hand.

"So, Broody, do you plan to wager or are we just supposed to guess?" Varric's teasing voice snaps Fenris out of his thoughts.

He has no clue how long he's been staring at his hand, but he shifts uncomfortably in his chair. It would not be good to get aroused in front of Donnic and Varric.

"Seriously, Broody, you look as if you want to bore holes into your cards. I wouldn't mind, as long as the holes show me what your hand is."

"I was…concentrating…on the hand."

"Uh-huh. The hand of a certain woman named after a bird, if I'd have to wager a guess."

Fenris cannot help the slight smile that tugs at his lips.

"Oh ho! So I'm _right_!" Varric gleefully declares.

"I will not discuss this with you, Dwarf." he grumbles, shooting Varric an icy glare.

"Fine, fine. Keep your secrets. I can make up the details. No one has seen hide or hair of either of you in days, so it shouldn't be too hard. Although I imagine _you_ have been quite hard lately."

"None of your neighbors have complained the past few days, so I would wager our friend here has been staying elsewhere." Donnic chimes in.

Varric's eyes light up as Fenris stares at Donnic. "Perhaps I have merely been sleeping. Or drunk."

The two men laugh as they regard the elf and his dark look.

The hour grows late as the three men play hand after hand, drinking the brandy Varric had brought, and eating from the basket of salted ham, a thick wedge of creamy cheese and fresh bread that Arielle had sent along with Fenris that morning. Donnic's contribution is Aveline's sweet rolls, which she knows Fenris loves.

"So, Broody, what finally made you crawl out of Hawke's bed?" Varric's eyes light up as he draws the Angel of Death, but his face remains a mask of stony contemplation.

"I had spoken with Donnic a few weeks back to see if he could get off work to play some night and this was the only night he had free." Fenris furrows his brow as he draws yet another Serpent card. _Where is that blasted Angel of Death?_

"So what's Hawke doing tonight, since she's not doing you?" Varric draws another card, confidently building his hand around the coveted Angel of Death.

Fenris glares at Varric, who just shrugs his shoulders, replying, "I've got a million of 'em Broody. It's a gift, it really is."

"She, Aveline, the whore and the blood mage are doing…womanly things."

"Like painting their toenails and having pillow fights?"

"I have no clue, Dwarf. Maybe you should ask them."

"Maybe I will. I wonder why Bianca wasn't invited." Varric lovingly pats his crossbow, resting against his legs.

"What is the deal with that cross bow anyway?" Donnic asks.

"Ah, my good man, get me drunk enough and I may tell you."

"How about we win the story from you instead?" Fenris asks, knowing Varric can rarely pass up a bet.

"Deal" Varric agrees, smiling smugly as he thinks of his winning hand, and knows his bluffing skills are unbeatable.

A couple of hours later, Fenris sits before a large pile of gold coins, and a scrap of paper that Donnic witnessed Varric writing. It is the IOU for one tale of how Bianca got her name. Fenris makes sure Varric writes "True" story, as he knows the dwarf will lie if it is not specified.

Varric is still scratching his chin in amazement, wondering how on Thedas the elf managed to bluff his way through so many hands.

"Well, I've lost all the money I came with. Time for me to go home to an empty bed." Donnic chugs the last of his brandy, standing up to shake hands with Varric and Fenris. "Thank you Fenris. Next week perhaps? I'll ask the Guard Captain for the night off." He grins as he mentions his wife, and walks out the door, a slightly drunken stagger to his walk.

Varric pats Fenris on the back, winking at him as he walks out the door. "Thanks for taking my gold, Broody. I have to go home and work on that new story of you and our fearless leader. I think I'll call it 'Broody Lovers'."

Fenris stares after the men for a moment, and then looks at the pile of money on the table. He needs to buy Hawke a new set of clothes, and he knows exactly what he wants. But what else to do with it? He mulls it over for a few moments, before a slow, lazy smile forms on his lips. He finds a wooden box and deposits the money inside, locking it with a key. He hides the box under his bed and the key inside of an empty urn next to his fireplace. He sits in his favorite chair, intending to read, but his thoughts continue to stray to Hawke. He has to see her face before he goes to sleep. His lips are craving her kisses, and he knows crashing her party is rude, but he also knows he will not be able to sleep until he kisses her goodnight.

He steps out into the cool night air in just his black leather breeches and a long-sleeved black cotton shirt. He does not feel the chill as others do, having been hardened to the elements from years as a slave.

His step is light as he nears her house, the anticipation he feels of holding her in his arms making his heart beat wildly.

He knocks lightly on the door, pleased when Bodhan greets him warmly. "Messere Fenris! We did not think we would see you tonight. My lady is with her guests in the study."

Fenris nods his head in thanks, making his way to the cozy room off the main hall. As he nears the closed door, his ears pick up their conversation. He halts when he hears his name, smiling as he realizes she is bragging about him in bed. Feminine giggles in four different voices fill the room and his grin widens, his chest puffing out. He knows he should not eavesdrop, but he cannot help himself. The conversation turns to Anders, and his grin falls to a frown. His eyes begin to darken as he realizes what she is saying. As the words hit him, about what exactly transpired that night, he cannot stomach to listen to any more. The rage darkens his soul-knowing now that Anders took advantage of her while she was impaired makes his head spin with disgust for the man. He spins on his heel, his lyrium beginning to glow. He pushes past Bodhan, not noticing the stunned look on the dwarf's face.

With each step toward Darktown, his rage grows. He rushes to his destination, not noticing Varric outside the Hanged Man, his arm around a plump, pretty dwarven lass. He does not notice Varric's look of worry and does not hear Varric calling out to him. The blood pounds in his ears and his eyes see red as he makes his way to the clinic. It will be closed this time of night, but even if it weren't, Fenris would still kill Anders. This way, there will just be less people to try to stop him. Not that they could stop him anyway.

He stalks through the door, fury darkened eyes searching for his prey. Anders, his back to the front door, is bent over his desk, mixing potions. Fenris is behind him in an instant, and as Anders turns, too late, Fenris has him around the throat. He lifts him by the neck, slamming him against the wall. His hand grips Anders' throat like a vice, his fingers like cold stone. He squeezes, making Anders' face turn purple. The blonde man gags, truly frightened by the intense rage on Fenris' face. The air is vibrating with the fury seeping from every pore in Fenris's body. His teeth are bared, and there is a purely feral look on his face.

The first blow comes and knocks Anders' face to the side. The second and third blows land square in the middle of his face. There is a sickening crunch of bones as Anders feels his nose break. Fenris' fist lands in the middle of Anders gut, and as he gasps for breath, it feels as if a sledgehammer slams into his side. The snap of breaking ribs is heard.

Fenris continues smashing Anders' face and assaulting his body until Anders can no longer stand, and slides to the ground. He curls into a ball, shielding his face with his arms. Fenris kicks him a couple of times in the stomach, dealing one kick to the groin. Then he grabs Anders by the front of his shirt, hauling him up. His face is inches from Anders', and the look he wears is vicious and savage.

Fenris' hands are slick with blood and he grabs the mage's head in his hands, smashing the back of his skull into the wall. He spits in Anders' face and jabs his knee into Anders' groin, before letting him drop again to the floor. Bending, he makes a move for Anders again, but a noise behind him halts his actions.

Fenris turns his head to see her in the middle of the room, her daggers drawn. As his breathing slowly returns to normal, he takes her in. Her eyes are wide with fear, mixed with some other emotion he cannot place, and a look of horror is on her face. He turns back to look at Anders. Anders' face is a bloody pulpy mess, and his eyes are already starting to swell shut. A couple of teeth lie next to his head. Fenris turns to look at Arielle again, and for the first time, notices the rest of the group.

The women are all in their nightclothes, weapons drawn. Merrill looks as if she is about to be sick, and Isabela is staring at Fenris with a look of pure, blatant desire on her face. Aveline, usually so calm and composed, wears a look of both shock and awe. His eyebrow raises slightly as he notices the fluffy white bunny slippers she wears. The door flings open and Varric rushes in, huffing and puffing.

He bends over, trying to catch his breath. "I…saw…Broody…rushing and I…followed." Isabela pats him on the back. His short, stumpy legs fail him and he coughs as he slides to the ground. After a few moments of loud air gulping, Varric stands and looks from one woman to the other, raising his eyebrows at Aveline. "_Nice_ bunny slippers, Guard Captain. They standard issue?"

"I couldn't find my boots, and as a matter of fact, they _are_, Varric."

"Donnic ever see you in those?"

"All the time, Varric."

"Lucky man, that Donnic."

"He seems to think so, yes."

A wheezing and gasping noise on the floor draws their attention back to Fenris and Anders.

"Oh, Anders" Merrill sighs sadly.

Arielle crosses to Fenris, shaking, tears streaming down her face. He turns to her, his body rigid with fury, but the hands that reach for her are gentle. She takes his face in her hands, kissing him softly. "Stop, my love. Stop. He has suffered enough. I am yours." She kisses his bloody and bruised knuckles, resting his hand against her cheek.

He turns once more to Anders, his growl making the mage cringe.

"Touch her again, mage, and I will show you your heart before I crush it. " The mage, already curled into the fetal position, nods slightly, whimpering softly.

He pulls her to him, burying his face in her neck. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asks.

"Because I knew you would kill him."

"Let's go home," she whispers. He nods against her neck and she pulls him out of the clinic, using the cellar passage back into her home.

Aveline, Isabela, and Varric, after a few stunned moments, follow silently. Merrill remains behind, crossing to the battered and bloody figure of Anders on the floor.

"Oh, you poor, stupid fool." she whispers.


	15. Chapter 15

Thank you to everyone who has waited so patiently for this update. I must admit that Merrill gives me pause when writing her speech, so thank you to Hatsepsut for the guidance. I do realize this is shorter than you might like, but I'm pretty exhausted from Real Life these days, and finding time to write has been difficult. Anyway, I hope you like it, and we will return to Fenris & Hawke soon, but now the aftermath of the beat down must commence.

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><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen: Aftermath<strong>

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><p>Merrill<p>

Biting her lip nervously, she stares after the retreating forms of her friends, looking back at the man on the floor. Her heart seems to split, as she does not want to stay in this dingy room with the bleeding and broken man who has been so unpleasant to her in the past. But as she looks at him, bruised and pathetic, she knows she has to help him until she can fetch a healer and find a caretaker_. "It is too late to go wandering about the dark streets anyway. I should not have left my ball of yarn at home. Varric would disapprove, I think. He told me to always have that with me. Besides, I am not wearing proper attire for wandering the streets at night. Well, I am if I'm __**that **__type of girl, but I'm not, and what if I ran into some unsavory characters while in my nightclothes? I wonder if there are any meat pies left at Hawke's. Oh, I'm so hungry. Well, Anders, we may not agree all the time…ok, never…and I know you do not like me very much, but you need help, and I'm all you've got for the moment. Besides, your floor is dirty, and your wounds need tending to. Ewww, are those his teeth? Should I save those?"_

His low whimper of pain stops the dialogue her brain is having and tugs at her heart. She sighs softly as she kneels by his side, daintily picking up the teeth Fenris had dislodged, placing them on a table nearby. She returns to Anders, and unfastens his robes to examine him. Her heart twists as she takes in the full extent of his injuries. His face is almost unrecognizable and she is filled with sadness for her companion. She is unsure of how many ribs might be broken, or what other internal injuries he may have, but nearly his entire torso is covered in ugly yellowing bruises. It is difficult to tell where one stops and another begins. She eyes his breeches as she nibbles her bottom lip, debating on whether to remove those as well. She knows Fenris kicked him very hard and perhaps she should just check to make sure everything is...as it should be. As her trembling fingers seem to move on their own toward the top button, his raspy, pain filled voice asking for water stills her hand. She feels herself grow hot with the blush she prays he cannot see, and clears her throat, turning her attention back to the man in front of her. In her camp, she had often been called on to calm the Halla, and she uses the same tone of voice now to comfort Anders. "Shhh, Lethallin. It's all right. You're safe."

She realizes how uncomfortable he must be on the cold, hard floor, but there is no way she can possibly lift or drag him to his bed across the room. She quietly crosses to the bed, taking the pillow and a rumpled blanket. Moving him as little as possible, she gently places the pillow beneath his head, and covers him with the blanket. She tries to brush the hair from his forehead, but is matted and clumped with drying blood, and sticks to his skin. He again asks quietly for water, and she curses herself for making him wait. She finds a large mug that looks clean, and fills it with water, holding it to his cracked and swollen lips. He drinks too much, choking and sputtering, spraying her with droplets of water. She makes him take smaller sips and once he has drunk his fill, she lays his head back on the pillow. He smiles wanly at her, and Merrill is stunned to realize just how much she is enjoying someone actually _needing_ her. Even if that someone _is_ Anders.

She flits around the room, gathering soap, clean towels, bandages, several packets of herbs, a large bottle labeled "Sleeping Draught" and one that simply says "For Pain" and a comb. She fills a large wooden bowl with hot water, taking extra care not to spill any as she makes her way back to Anders. She sits as demurely as she can in her pink pajamas, crooning to him as she wipes the blood from his face, cleaning his cuts gently. She holds both potions so he can see them, and after he nods, she makes him drink them both. She combs the dried blood gently from his hair, cleaning the more stubborn clumps with hot water and soap. When his face and upper body have been cleaned to her satisfaction, she mixes the herbs with some clean water, forming a foul smelling paste.

"I do hope this works," she murmurs as the stench nearly overwhelms them both. She has only a limited knowledge of healing balms and hopes she hasn't forgotten anything vital. Anders had been watching her mixing the herbs into the paste and did not alert her to any mistakes, so she assumes she has the right ingredients. She desperately wishes she had found something to make it not smell like nug shit, but she didn't see anything on his shelves or workbench that would give it a more pleasant scent. He howls in pain as the mixture stings his wounds and she gently blows on his face.

"Stop. Spitting." Anders forces the two words out, wincing as the slight movement of speech makes his body cry out in pain.

"I'm not spitting. At least, I wasn't trying to. I'm sorry. Now hold still. I have to put more of this vile stuff on you, and then wrap your ribs."

His nose wrinkles in disgust, but Merrill slathers the salve on his cuts, covering them with clean bandages. Her thoughts, as they so often do, fall from her lips almost as quickly as they enter her mind.

"You really are a stupid, stupid man, do you know that? You are lucky he didn't kill you. Isabela would have killed you, I think. She is very angry with you, as is Aveline. I would not want them angry with me. Or perhaps Isabela would have just made you a eunuch. That seems more like what she would do, don't you agree? Oh, hold still there, I have to wrap this bandage around your ribs. There, nice and tight. You appear to have broken ribs, but I do not know how many. Does that hurt? Oh, it must hurt terribly. I've never had any broken bones myself. Does it hurt when you breathe? It must. Did you know some of your teeth are missing? You will have quite a difficult time chewing steak. Or anything, for that matter. Do you like steak, Anders? I just realized I don't think I have ever seen you eat. What is your favorite food? I just discovered something tonight called a meat pie. Have you ever had a meat pie? It's just wonderful. Oh, this blood is making me a bit queasy. Isn't that funny? Me, a _blood mage_, queasy at the sight of some blood. I do hope I don't throw up on you. I will try my best. There you are, nice and patched up. Would you like another blanket?"

She waits a few seconds and is greeted with silence. She glances at his face, afraid that he is once again angry with her. He always seems to disapprove of everything she does. However, he has fallen into a deep sleep, as the drugs Merrill gave him have worked their magic and taken him deeply into the Fade. She takes the opportunity to study the other mage. His breathing is labored, and his body is covered in white bandages and he stinks as if a large herd of nugs has shit on him from head to toe. But his face, bruised and swollen as it is, is somehow peaceful. Merrill wonders if he has trouble sleeping, and what his evenings after the clinic closes, are like. He seems so lonely. He appears younger when he sleeps, and she finds him rather handsome…for a human. She cannot resist peeking at what he hides under his breeches, and she slowly works them down past his hips and off his legs. _"Well, I __**do**__ have to see if he has any cuts that need tending to. What kind of person would I be if I let any wounds go unchecked? Then they could get infected and his legs could fall off. It could happen. Probably. And besides, his clothing is soiled, and does need washed. I think I saw his breeches rip when Fenris kicked him; that definitely needs to be looked after."_ After she has removed his pants, she gasps in awe as she takes in the sight that is Naked Anders. _"How does he hide __**THAT**__?" _

His muscular legs are bruised, but nothing like his upper body, and there are a few minor cuts that Merrill cleans and bandages. But the highlight of Merrill's day is her discovery of what Anders has been hiding beneath his robes. Even with her naivety, Merrill can appreciate what he has to offer. _"I wonder if it is mostly swollen due to the beating. No, surely he cannot be __**that**__ swollen?"_

She shakes herself from her Anders induced daze, and covers him with a second blanket. She briefly considers redressing him in fresh clothing, but realizes that will just jostle him too much, and he needs to stay still while his ribs heal. She has already moved him enough with taking his pants off. The thought of finding a caretaker for Anders slowly slips from her mind. She will find him a healer in the morning, to check his bandages and prescribe more drugs for the pain, but she wants to be the one by his side when he wakes. Perhaps they can be friends if he sees she is not so terrible. She adds a few more logs to the fire, making sure the room will stay toasty and warm while she is gone. She knows he will be asleep for quite some time, and wraps one of his cloaks around her. She steals quietly into the passage outside his door, making her way as quickly as she can back to Hawke's estate. She needs to gather some things, but is determined to be back in the clinic before he wakes from his drug-induced slumber.


	16. Chapter 16

Dear Readers:

This is goodbye. For a few weeks now, I have been wrestling with this decision, and I have decided to end this story here. I have been receiving rather disturbing private messages to my inbox here that have been painful to read, and more than just unkind or critical. I can take criticism…this is has been far from that. Yes, I have blocked these people. Yes, I have reported them. No, they have not stopped. The wording is always similar, and it has gotten to be too much to take. I have enough going on in my Real Life, with my mother-in-law set to have a mastectomy (possibly a double) in a few weeks, and other things, that I just don't need to be dealing with people's ugliness.

It has gotten to the point that when a private message comes through, or even a review, at this point, that I don't even want to look at it. And that is not fun. I started this story because it was fun, and I shared it because it was FUN. It is no longer fun. This site is no longer fun to be on. Therefore, at the end of the 28 days that I have left on the story before it is taken down per site rules, I'll be deleting my account.

If I get too many assholes responding with negative comments, I'll delete it sooner. I don't need that negativity in my life. I'm going to keep writing on this, and if you want to privately know what happens, let me know & I'll send you the updated chapters. But I'm not going to subject myself to the filth that has been coming at me any longer.

Thank you, to those of you who have been loyal supporters of this story.


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